


Pinky Promise

by lost2bfound



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: AU, Big Brothers, Childhood Reveal, Crew as Family, F/M, Family Secrets, Little Sisters, M/M, Protective Spock, Secret Identity, Secrets, Sister!OFC, protective crew
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-03-21 09:58:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3687963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost2bfound/pseuds/lost2bfound
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Why are you scared, Spock?”<br/>
</p><p>“Why are you not scared, Selena?”<br/>
</p><p>She only smiled at me and patted my cheek, as if I were the younger sibling. “You’re here now Spock, I have nothing be afraid of.” There was a pause. “You saved me.”<br/>
</p><p>Automatically, I responded, “I will always save you.” Though my response was illogical as always could not guaranteed as there was no way to know that I would even be capable of saving her, I still meant it wholeheartedly.<br/>
</p><p>Her eyes were serious as at four years old, she promised me back, “I will always save you as well.”<br/>
</p><p>Lifting her hand to stick out her little finger, she looked at me with an air of expectation. I unconsciously mirrored her gesture, allowing our digits to intertwine in what our mother had called a “pinky promise.” This was our vow to each other.</p><p>OR</p><p>Of pasts uncovered, a sister revealed, siblings reunited, and the power of a pinky promise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It Was All Familiar

If asked, I could state the rate at which blood is exiting my body or the probability that help would arrive before I die from blood loss. I know the length and depth at which the animal had slashed through my torso, as well as the organs that are damaged. Furthermore, I can give a step by step procedure as to the medical treatment I should receive, right down to the which vaccines should be administered and how many hours of surgery I will require.  


Yet, despite being lucid and thus far, unaffected by the blood loss, I could only gaze in amazement at the sky.  


It is blue. Crisp and clear as if no cloud dared to intrude. The sky is beautiful and familiar and identical to Vulcan’s when it still existed. That remembrance brought a pang of pain more resonating than even my current injury. Yet, that bitter reminiscence is outweighed by the comfort that I will at least die under a familiar sky.  


My eyes blur as the blood loss begins to take its toll. I have only 5.9 more minutes before I lose consciousness. For a moment, all I can see is the vague image of a blue sky and a shadowy face of a figure leaning over me. Then, I register a fear that is not my own, but rather originating from where our skin touches. Suddenly, a memory begins filling in the details and it is more than the sky that is familiar, but rather, the whole situation.  


I have done this all before. A blue sky above me, as I lay sprawled on my back with pain radiating through my body. It is all familiar. Even the unknown figure’s fear is familiar, but in this memory, it is no stranger. Rather, the shadows clear and pale skin, black hair, and brown eyes crystalize. It was my brother. What discomfort and tension I had been feeling since my injury seemed to fade into relief and trust. He would not break his promise.  


The memory suddenly disappears with a sharp hypo to the neck. Once my sight focuses, it is not to the sky or my brother, but rather to the face of a frantic doctor, who has been yelling obscenities and insults for the last 1.9 minutes, while attempting to repair the damage and call for help. I had tuned him out after 0.3 minutes, not wanting to waste what time I had left. He had disappeared from my line of vision soon after, only to appear now, more panicked than before, though his movements remained methodical and precise.  


I remembered my mother telling me as a child how reassurances—no matter how illogical and empty—made humans feel better. Therefore, I said softly, “It will all be okay,” then mimicked her soothing smile.  


When that did not seem to assuage the doctor, I even went as far as reaching out painfully to reassuringly squeeze whatever my hand came in contact with first—his arm. The emotions transmitted in that touch: shock, fear, regret, anger, guilt, helplessness, desperation, brought me back to the memory of my brother. So even as McCoy yelled back at me in what I suspected was disbelief, I only smiled and replied, “It will all be alright, just call Spock.”  


I then closed my eyes and started a mild healing trance, content knowing that my brother was on the way.  


I was subconsciously aware of the vague sensations of hands urgently grasping my shoulders. Though I wished they would cease to jostle me, it was reassuring to know I was not alone.  


Time passed, but I was aware of little, until a mind brushed desperately against my own.  


_Selena,_ it whispered urgently, _Selena._ Blearily, I thought to myself, I know that voice.  


Reaching out with my own mind, I brushed against it, feeling something familiar and lost. It felt safe, like a shelter from harm and shield from the pain that I attempted to block. It felt like protection. It felt like family.  


My healing trance broke and I blinked open dim eyes to a familiar face in a familiar situation.  


Spock held me cradled in his arms, as if we were children again instead of adults. His grip was just as warm and protective as I remembered and it was comforting to know that something would never change.  


Above me, the blue of the sky seemed to blur with the purple of the trees as we burst through the forest. He was careful though, not to jostle me, but I was beyond the point of pain.  


I smiled at the familiar site. At just the right angles, at just the right moments, if I blurred my eyes enough, the purple became the red stone of Vulcan’s mountains and cliffs, and it felt like being home.  


I heard my name once more, but this time, he said it aloud.  


“Spock,” I replied in turn, cuddling into his hold, even as my eyelids threatened to close.  


“You must stay awake, Selena,” he ordered in a tone that I was sure was created especially for older brothers. If I had not been so tired, I would have laughed, but the slight tremble I discerned in his voice discredited his strictness and replaced it with fear.  


He sounded frightened.  


Opening my eyes took too much time and too much effort, but I fought to do so anyways if only to confirm what I suspected. I was not wrong. His brown eyes were wide with fear and a touch of desperation. This too was familiar, so it only felt right to say, “Why are you scared, Spock?”  


The steady, controlled gate my brother had been running at faltered at my words. His eyes darted to mine in barely concealed shock. Whether originating from my words or the memory they echoed, I did not know.  


“Have no fear Spock. You’ve never been one to break promises lightly,” I murmured, mildly dazed as the fog began to creep back into my mind, “Everything will be alright, because you’re here now.”  


The arms cradling my body close pulled me involuntarily tighter as I drifted off once more, peaceful knowing everything was going to be okay now.  


_Selena…Selena…Selena!_ Spock urgently called. His fear, if possible, magnified at my irresponsiveness.  


I frowned, wanting to rest, but unwilling to subject my brother to undue despair. My words came out slurred with the effort it took to form them. “I saved you last time. You save me this time. So, don’t worry, Spock, because I’ll live to save you next time.” The fog of blood loss took me prisoner after my words as I fell into a deep healing trance. I thought I heard voices though, vaguely in the dimming background.  


“Enterprise! Three to beam up!”  


“She’s losing too much blood! We have to get her up now!”  


“Beam us up! Beam us up!”  


“Dammit Spock, that’s a woman, not a football. Try not to jostle her!”  


“Enterprise, where are you?”  


“Doctor, I assure you that while patients are your expertise, my sister is mine and I am well aware of what she is and is not.”  


Everything fell silent. I could not tell if it was because I had finally succumbed to unconsciousness or if it was because of his words.

…

_It would be 12.6 days before I would let her out of my sight again and 2.1 weeks before I was able to pick up my tricorder without flinching. However, as I stood, with my back turned to her, studying my mother’s Earth plants, I did not yet know any better._  


_The readings were fascinating. Already, I was planning to compile an analysis to determine how they differed to those native to Vulcan. I would have to enquire to my mother as to why she chose these plants and how she had predicted their survival._  


_I lost sight of her for 3.7 minutes in my preoccupation with the Terran rosebush and it was 1.3 minutes after that when I was struck by an unprecedented wave of fear. The tricorder dropped from my hands recklessly, clattering to the dry Vulcan ground, as I spun around urgently. The fear had not been mine, but the desperation I now felt was. I could not see my sister._  


Spock, _her voice yelled through my mind._  


_I took off running. As if a beacon had been sent off by the message, I knew where she was and knew that she needed me._  


_At the age of nine, my legs were too short to cover any distance with speed, but the pulsing fear I felt pouring from her bond, spurred me beyond the limits of height and fatigue. Even as I ran to her, I could see through her eyes the wild Le-matya that circled her predatorily. Though she was only four years old, her mind buzzed with calculations and information regarding the animal that stood only paces away from her. It was waiting to strike and I had to be there when it did._  


_I was late by 5.8 second._  


_Only meters away, I watched as it lashed its poisonous claws at my sister, sending her sprawling to her back with green blood staining the pink Terran sundress she had proudly shown me just this morning._  


_Logic was lost as our bond now transmitted pain. I tackled the beast just as it made to pounce on my sisters helpless form once more. Though I was still years away from growing into an average adult Vulcan’s strength, my anger and desperation made up for what I lacked as I pounded a stray stone into its head once we had tumbled back to the ground. Years later, as I remembered it running away, hurt and bleeding, I regretted not ending its life for the pain it had dealt her._  


_But right now, all I could do was drop the stone and run to my sister’s side. The pink of her dress was stained green and the ground beneath her was wet with her blood. Yet, she only smiled to softly as I pulled her carefully into my lap. Her eyes were clear and bright, calm and at peace, as if she were patiently waiting for me to carry her to bed to tuck her in. I felt at a loss as I carefully retraced my steps home, but refused to run in fear of causing her pain. It was illogical, as I knew time was of the essence, but I could not look away from her to look ahead, less I look back down and find her gone._  


_She frowned softly, looking too serious for only four years. Ignoring the spike of pain I felt her feel through the bond and my protests not to move, she placed her soft, small palm on my cheek. Her eyes closed in a look of concentration before opening in genuine in confusion. Then, in a tone of complete child’s innocence, she asked me with wide-eyes, “Why are you scared, Spock?”_  


_I stopped in my tracks at the question to gently probe her mind, checking to see if she had struck her head when she had fallen and was experiencing memory loss. Yet, I found no damage. She only reached out in response to my silent inquiry, transmitting calming and reassuring emotions. It was only then that I realized that the fear radiating from our bond, was originating from myself, not her._  


_Incredulous, I diverted the question with one of my own, “Why are you not scared, Selena?”_  


_She only smiled at me and patted my cheek, as if I were the younger sibling. “You’re here now Spock, I have nothing be afraid of.” There was a pause. “You saved me.”_  


_Automatically, I responded, “I will always save you.” Though my response was illogical as always could not guaranteed as there was no way to know that I would even be capable of saving her, I still meant it wholeheartedly._  


_Her eyes were serious as at four years old, she promised me back, “I will always save you as well.” In any other situation it would have been laughable to think that my younger sister was promising to protect me. However, her solemnity left no room for doubt. She would follow through in her promise._  


_Lifting her hand to stick out her little finger, she looked at me with an air of expectation. I unconsciously mirrored her gesture, allowing our digits to intertwine in what our mother had called a “pinky promise.” This was our vow to each other._


	2. Let Me See Your Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which, Selena has her first day of work aboard the Enterprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't be confused! The events of this chapter happen before Selena is injured in Chapter 1. This goes back to the beginning, right after Selena first arrives at the Enterprise.

It really was something else to feel so alone—isolated even—when surrounded by so many people at a time. I felt out of my depth, lost without a destination in mind and stranded without any means of going anywhere. 

A bitter voice spoke softly in my mind, daring to wonder if this was why my mother had brought my brother and me into this world. Maybe our births were some misguided attempt to soothe her own loneliness in such an unfamiliar situation. It must have been so comforting to have physical proof that she was not the only human on Vulcan. At least, she must have thought, I have two children that are just as much as human as they are Vulcan. A compromise she had no choice but to accept.

I let myself wallow in this momentary bitterness, before being flooded with guilt at having doubted my own mother’s intention. After all, she has been my only source of comfort these past few years without Spock.

That name alone brought waves of uncontrolled emotions, memories, and thoughts. I could only imagine my father and brother's horror at discovering the disarray my mind has fallen into. However, how could they know? After all, there is only one other person that is both human and Vulcan. Even then, he embraces Vulcan logic, whereas I embrace my Human heritage. Here at least, there is no bitterness, because they could not have predicted the damage the destruction of Vulcan could have wrought on my mind.

I soothed this untamed thought quickly. It was unfair to blame others form my own careless. Was this not an inevitable mistake of my own making? Had I not, all those years before, cut off the bond that would have saved me the... ailment...I now suffered? Even then, my error is reparable, and quite literally at grasping distance, but still, I hold myself back from my...cure.

There is no one to blame but myself.

…

Washing off the disinfectant soap I had generously lathered on my hands, I berated myself for having slipped up so easily. While the mistake was not telling enough to arouse suspicion, the look of confusion Doctor McCoy had shot at me did not sit well with me either. After all, what would anyone make of a nurse that turned around every time someone called out, ‘Doctor’?

Meeting my own gaze in the mirror, I mentally repeated the name: Nurse Selena Gray. It was, technically, my name... or at least the name I was to be known by while working on the Enterprise.

I check myself once more in the mirror, to make sure everything was in place.

I look, for the most part, human, which I am eternally grateful for. By some miracle, I managed to dodge the Vulcan eyebrows in favor of a human pair. There would be no hope in hiding my Vulcan genetics if I had inherited those. While my skin is a bit pale, I could simply attribute this to too much time in space and not enough hours spent soaking in the rays of whatever sun we happen to be close to. There were, however, certain characteristics of my Vulcan heritage cannot be helped, but thankfully, could be concealed. My ears, for one, were carefully hidden beneath layers of hair that were styled purposely to conceal the pointed tips. The green Vulcan blood that raced through my veins is much harder to hide, but thankfully is only obvious when I am injured or blushing--to which I prefer the former. While injury is partly out of my hands, I do take care to avoid any bodily harm possible, if only to prevent from revealing my Vulcan heritage. The blushing is easily solved with a bit of makeup and concealer. For the most part, if I do tinge green, humans tend to attribute it to sickness rather than the color of my blood.

The part I now played however, would require the utmost carefulness since I could not assume that humans aboard this starship will be ignorant enough to make these typical assumptions. I have been on the Enterprise not even a day and already I have been extensively briefed on how to recognize the signs of 'an injured hobgoblin that has no sense of life preservation' and the need to drag said Vulcan to Sickbay. Needless to say, sighting green blood would be at the top of the list. From the sympathetic glances I had received during the lecture from other nurses and crew members already admitted to patient beds, it seemed as if everyone had been treated to this... informative monologue.

‘BANG BANG BANG,’ went a knock on the open doorway.

I jerked away my inspection in practiced human surprise. Despite being half-Vulcan, my brother and I inherited complete Vulcan reflexes and senses, which came with a faster reaction time and a sharper sense perception. 

I was no longer the only person being reflected in the mirror. 

Turning around swiftly, I managed to put on a chagrined smile, as I faced Doctor McCoy. It has only been my first day working under him and already, I was familiar with the general stormy disposition he seemed to carry around him. He seemed to always be stuck between irritation and frustration, ready to unleash them all upon an unexpecting patient or nurse. 

At my smile, he only narrowed his eyes, in what can either be interpreted as confusion or anger. The later made more sense, as a quick glance at the clock told me that I had been here for 5 minutes, just staring at my reflection.

"The Sickbay isn't any place for vanity, Nurse Gray," McCoy grumbled at me disapprovingly, "Nor is it any place for deaf Nurses." At my apparent confusion, he rolled his eyes, "I've been calling for your name for the past 3 minutes now."

That probably explained why I didn't react. I wasn't accustomed to being called "Nurse" instead of "Doctor," just as I had yet to train myself to react to the name, "Gray" instead of "Grayson." It didn't help either that I was not used to being talked down to like this. 

Straightening up hotly I leapt to my own defense. "Doctor McCoy, I am neither vain, nor de--".

He cut me off, "Are you gonna try to argue with me that staring at yourself in the mirror for that long isn't being vain?"

It would be vain if I had been checking up on my hair and makeup for any other reason than making sure that my ears were hidden and my makeup, hiding any green tinge. But of course, I could not reply with that.

At my silence, he too straightened up, smug. "Get back to work. Ensign Rolin needs to be checked for burns." At the sound of the Sickbay doors sliding opening, McCoy turned away, but not before adding, "Injured men don't care about how nurses look."

Who is he to judge, I thought angrily, bristling at his dismissal and presumed victory. His comment only worked to bait my swift temper and even swifter tongue. Both of which I had inherited from my mother; both of which, my father—and brother—despaired. 

"Perhaps if you cared a little more about how you looked, injured crew members wouldn't be so weary of being treated by doctors that look ready to fall over from exhaustion." Just as quickly as my temper rose, it also faded, leaving me regretful at my blatant insult and act of insubordination. 

The entire Sickbay seemed to fall quiet at my words. Even Ensign Rolin, who I could already tell he 3rd degree burns, stopped exhaling pained whimpers, to stare. A feat which considerable effort and bravery, considering the pain I was sure he was him. Nurse Chapel, who seemed the most immune to McCoy's intimidation and antics, turned to watch with wide eyes, but kept silent. No one wanted to draw McCoy's attention right now, lest they also unleash his anger upon themselves.

It wasn't necessary however, as McCoy spun around to face me, sputtering and red in the face. 

Despite the imminent fear of being fired only on my official first day of work and being marooned on the next planet the Enterprise passed, I met his glare steadily and impassively. Raising one eyebrow, questioningly, as if wondering why he was angry and shocked at my words.

At this, his eyes narrowed, in an undecipherable expression.

I was immediately set on edge. His anger, I could handle. But this, I didn't know what to make of it. Before I could think further on it, a resounding laugh echoed throughout the Sickbay, breaking our staring contest and my train of thought.

The tension in the air seemed to dissipate and the patients and the nurses seemed to sigh in relief as they turned gratefully to the source of laughter. McCoy's eyes lingered on me a moment more, still unreadable, before flickering to the new arrival and narrowing in what was visible aggravation.

I crept out of the restroom and into the main room of Sickbay, only now catching sight a clearly amused and smiling man that had been hidden from my line of sight by McCoy's figure. 

The amazing variation in the eye color of humans never ceased to amaze me, as I took in the unique, blue pigmentation of his eyes. They were emphasized even further by the gold of his Starfleet Uniform. It was the famous Captain Kirk.

I felt the sudden, human urge to hide in the restroom and bang my head on the door in mortification of having been caught in my act of insubordination. Blood rushed to my face in embarrassment and I at least had enough presence of mind to dip my head down, so as to allow my hair to swing forward, hiding any green blushing that was not hidden by my makeup.

"Laugh it up Jim, just wait until your next physical examination. Then we'll see who's laughing when I get to hypo you..." McCoy grumbled as he stalked towards the man.

"Oh come on Bones!" the man exclaimed, once he managed to subdue his laughter, "She has a point.

He turned those blindingly blue eyes on me, as he questioned, "Nurse...?"

"Nurse Selena Gray--". I cut myself off abruptly, hoping that my sudden pause was not obvious. It was habit to say, 'Selena Grayson,' rather than 'Selena Gray,' which was the name I had recorded on my Starfleet Personnel File.

Captain Kirk eyes lighted once more, "Nurse Gray...Doctor Gray." He paused dramatically after saying these words, and I suddenly became personally acquainted with the human expression: my heart stopped. I held my breath, even as I felt my impassive mask begin to crumble under the weight of his gaze. 

He laughed suddenly and continued on saying, "Come on, Grey's Anatomy anyone? Doctor Grey? The 21st century television show?"

My heart slowly restarted. His words were only in reference to an old Terran show. I carefully, arranged my expression into one of confusion. A quick glance around the room told that my unfamiliarity with the show was not shocking and did not seem unusual. Until the Captain had explained the reference, McCoy had seemed ready to grab his tri-recorder to scan for any brain injury Kirk might have sustained on the latest mission, which apparently had been eventful, if the number of crew members in medical were any indicator. It had happen just prior to my arrival.

Captain Kirk shrugged at our apparent confusion, "Well I'm gonna call you Doctor Grey anyway, even if you are a Nurse." He chuckled, "Unless you're hiding a MD on you somewhere?"

I shook my head quickly, eager to dispel this train of thought. Calling me a Doctor was just part of a nickname, nothing more, I mentally whispered to reassure myself. My eyes darted quickly to McCoy, who stared at me with the same unreadable expression as before. It frustrated me, as I was typically well versed at reading human expressions.

The Captain turned back to Doctor McCoy, "We're calling her Doctor Grey from now on, you got that Bones? Captain's orders."

McCoy scoffed in disbelief and exasperation, unconsciously running a hand through his disheveled hair and felt the stubble that had grown on his face. His blue uniform shirt was tellingly winkled from too many hours spent sitting at his desk, pouring over files, or standing at patient’s bedside to heal, what he called, "careless injuries."

Captain Kirk's smile widened and he turned to catch my gaze before blinking only one of his eyes at me, in what humans call a "wink." My experience, as to how to respond to this gesture is limited, so I simply met his stare steadily. 

His eyes sparkled with the remnants of laughter and perhaps, a tinge of respect for the brutally honest words I had spoken to McCoy earlier. I remained impassive despite this discomfort and confusion I felt as he seemed to stare at me with approval. Any negative emotions I had felt towards Doctor McCoy paled in comparison to the gratefulness I felt as he recaptured the Captain's attention.

"Did you come down here for any reason other than to annoy me and make Nurse Gray a Doctor?" McCoy questioned roughly. 

My shock at the blatant insubordination was overruled by my disbelief at Captain Kirk's flippancy with the Doctor words. He did not seem insulted, but rather, his smile widened in what I could only believe was fondness. At this, I tilted my head in mild confusion. Captains were generally encouraged to maintain a professional working relationship. Not only did Captain Kirk seem to disregard professionalism, but he exuded an air of friendliness, even familiarity in his actions towards the doctor. I made note of this and resolved to study the two men's interaction more carefully, at a later time.

"I did, actually, come down here, on official business," Captain Kirk replied in feigned professionalism, which he ruined by saying, "It was just lucky timing that I got to see Dr. Gray tell you off."

Ignoring Doctor McCoy's sputtering, the Captain continued on, asking him the red faced Doctor, "Pike is getting on me about having my chain of command in order, so have you chosen your Head Nurse yet?"

This question had everyone, but the two conversing men, sending questioning glances at Nurse Chapel, who has formerly filled this post for the Enterprise it seemed, until now. At the silent inquiry, she shrugged and simply replied, "I'm not cut out for the bureaucratic nonsense that comes with the post."

McCoy grunted in agreement to her comment and replied to Captain Kirk, "Yeah, I've chose, but you ruined her title as Head Nurse by renaming her, a Doctor."

With that, Doctor McCoy spun on his heel and walked towards the doors leading out of Sickbay.

If I had been fully human, my mouth would have dropped open in surprise, to mirror the dazed and disbelieving expressions of the other occupants in the room. Even Captain Kirk seemed to be unable to process the Doctor's words as the gaped after the retreating back.

It seemed, I thought dazedly, all Senior Officers seemed to value blunt truth and insubordination.

Doctor McCoy called over his shoulder, "Gray, you're in charge. I decided that I will take your advice on vanity and taking off for the rest of the shift." 

Standing just outside the doors of Sickbay, he turned around with a smug smirk that made me feel like I had lost, despite having earned a promotion on only my first day, "I hope you enjoy dealing with 'bureaucratic nonsense' on top of dealing with patients."

The doors slid close, but not before I caught sight of shockingly vibrant light brown eyes that seemed to dance with amusement. They were shockingly beautiful.


	3. Of Habits, Offices, and Hot Chocolate

Long after McCoy had left Sickbay and Captain Kirk had finally managed to reel in his shocked, disbelieving laughter to return to the Bridge, I stood before the door of the office designated for the CMO and the Head Nurse. It seemed ridiculous to have feelings of such uncertainty when simply entering the shared office. Yet, the human part of me hesitated, leaving me standing with one hand on keypad and the other on the door handle. 

Up to now, my new title as Head Nurse seems more like a glorified position. While it is true, that I had only been promoted in the past few hours, in that time that has passed since then, I feel unchanged. 

The other Nurses treated me no differently than before. There was the same polite chatter, the same helpful guidance of experienced workers aiding a new employee, and the same mild wariness directed towards a stranger in their territory. While I hypothesized that their unchanged behavior could be the result of the lingering sense of surrealism that seemed to surround the experience, the Enterprise crew is known for being resilient and adaptable. In this, they had proved themselves again by accepting as their new Head Nurse a woman that lacks seniority. 

Their simple acceptance of me was comforting and warming in a way I had not expected. It was like a regeneration hypo over an open wound, healing my injury rather than antagonizing it. Here, I did not constantly have to fight back against attacks nor defend myself against disapproval from all sides. It was strange to be given a promotion that I did not believe I had earned, whereas in the past, I would have been purposely denied the position, regardless of if it should be mine. 

This was a welcomed reprieve from years of constantly having to be on guard against contempt. It felt unreal. 

A part of me was waiting for the other shoe to drop and the real reality to set in. While I did not dare hope for more than the professional, polite treatment that my colleagues treated me with—which already surpassed any kindness shown to me by people outside of my family—neither did I reject the possibility that their respect would fade to bitterness. 

I have seen it go both ways, but more often than not, I have seen it turn for the worst.

“Is this going to be a habit with you or something?” a voice exclaimed from behind me, “Just staring off at things to think?”

Doctor McCoy sounded decidedly annoyed—a tone that I was increasingly becoming acquainted with. It was a small blessing at least, that I was facing the door as I felt my cheeks and ears heat up at his comment.

Buying myself a moment longer to find my composure and return to my pale complexion, I shot back, “Is this going to a habit for you too? Sneaking up on people who are busy thinking?”

The Doctor gave an inelegant snort, which for humans can either translate to amusement and laughter or contempt and frustration. I settled on the latter.

“It’s gonna be a long 5 years if we keep going the way we are,” McCoy muttered.

It was a sentiment that I agreed with, because even though he was by no means as deliberately cruel as others from my past, there was an echo of their thinly veiled insults in his words. 

I closed my eyes, continuing to face towards the door with my back to Doctor McCoy.

‘Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it,’ my mind repeated.

On some human level, I registered an emotion of confusion and hurt at the malice in his comments. But as I was also part Vulcan, I used what was left of my mental shields to deflect the unwanted feelings.

‘Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it,’ my mind repeated.

“Well, get on with it,” he groused, “Your code should work. I had that Russian whiz kid add it in while I was gone.”

My eyes opened in mild surprise at his unexpected gesture. It seemed so at odds with the comments he tended to aim at me. However, these sudden turnaround in attitudes were something I had dealt with before as well and I involuntarily spun around to face the Doctor, if only to ascertain his truthfulness. Too often had these jokes been played on me and too often have I fallen from them.

My breath caught in what I hypothesized was a muscle spasm in my diaphragm and intercostal muscles surrounding my lungs, which in turn caused a deviation from my normal, controlled inhalation and exhalation process. It was indeed a strange phenomenon to experience.

Doctor McCoy stood an arm’s length away from me, with his arms crossed across his chest. Having only met the surly man earlier today, this was the first time to see him looking more than sleep deprived and unkempt. He looked...remarkably well. Being clean-shaven suited him. The CMO no longer looked like he was on the verge of either exploding with anger or collapsing in fatigue. It was a great improvement from the last time I had seen him. Even his emotions seemed better balanced, or at better hidden by the confidence he seemed to exude. It was...a nice change.

The shock from both his gesture and appearance must have strayed across my face. He seemed to attribute it however, fully to his unexpected act of kindness as he gestured toward the keypad, prompting me onward with a remarkably soft, “Go on then, try it out.” 

I did not trust myself to reply, but neither did I thank him in advance, if only to save myself the embarrassment should it all be a trick. Instead, I slowly typed in my entry code. 

Somehow, it felt less like I was intruding into his office, as I was being invited into our office. 

The keypad approved my code with telltale click of the lock coming undone. It hadn't been a joke after all. I pushed the door open. 

As I stepped into the dark room, it was strange to be comforted when feeling the slightest shift in the air behind me, signifying that Doctor McCoy had likewise entered. The door closed quietly behind us. 

“Computer. Lights.” I commanded softly.

The lights switched on.

It was a welcomed surprise to once again find my predictions to be entirely wrong. For one, the trapped stillness that I had long associated with small, contained areas was nowhere to be found in this office. Rather, I was engulfed by an air of comfort and reprieve. I was unbelievably glad at the lack of the futuristic, metallic finish that seemed to define all the walls and instruments of the starship. Instead, the walls of office were lined with soft brown, wooden panels that managed to make the room seem taller and wider. A bookshelf filled with medical journals and patient files lined the wall to the left of the entrance, while two wooden desks were arranged side by side to our right. The wall opposite to doors was surrounded by two well-loved, oversize velvet armchairs, as well as a sofa that was stacked high with blankets and pillows. Just above the coach was a large window, from which I could see stars and planets shooting by. 

The office seemed more akin to the houses I had seen in the Terran films my mother played for me as a child. Overall, it reminded me of the home I had lost on Vulcan. A brief flash of anguish and sorrow burst through the shields I had weakly built around my mind as I silently mourned the loss once more. 

Fully aware of the Doctor’s presence to my left, I turned to my right and began to walk around the office in a slow, measured pace as I attempted to repair the damage to my mind’s protection. As I circled the room, I let my hand dance across the smooth, cool surface of the desk and felt the warmth of the stacked blankets on the velvet couch. I let my gaze study the wooden panels, while gently grasping at the leather of the armchairs. For a few moments, I peered at the titles of the medical journals, making note of the ones I would like to read, before resuming my walk to return to Doctor McCoy’s side. Once more, my mental barriers were shaky, but at least present, and I had some semblance of control back.

The Doctor had indulged my curiosity in silence, allowing me to explore the room to my satisfaction. Now, it seemed, he was awaiting a report.

“Well?” he questioned impatiently, as if listening for my verdict on the room.

“Well…” I echoed back, uncertainly. He rolled his eyes, but maintained his silence as I put together my thoughts. It was surprisingly pleasing that he seemed to care what I thought of the office. 

“This might just be my favorite room in the entire starship,” I admitted. It has been a while since any place reminded me of home and I wanted to hold on to it.

McCoy tilted his head slightly to the side as he met my gaze appraisingly until he found what he was looking for. Then the tension in shoulders seemed to ease and his expression of perennial seriousness, relaxed slightly.

“These next five years might not be too bad after all then, Doctor Gray.”

I noted the jab he had once again dealt me.

I also noted, however, how the corner of his lips quirked upward in the beginnings of a grin while saying it.

It seems that the complexity of human teasing still escapes me since that was, after all, what I had been missing all along: the fine line Doctor McCoy straddled between joking and insulting. 

At this, I could not help but return his faint smile, because in the light of our office, his eyes are the color of hot chocolate and just as intoxicating.


	4. Heed My Threats...I Don't Want You Hurt

After four days as Head Nurse, resigning from the position was suddenly very appealing. 

It was not so much the added paperwork, which had a tendency to simply materialize on the corner of my desk each morning, nor the added time in Doctor McCoy's company, from which I was constantly learning the many uses of sarcasm. Instead, my desire to vacate the position of Head Nurse stemmed from the morning senior staff meetings.

My Vulcan upbringing made it impossible to ignore acknowledging how illogical it would be to leave such a high and beneficial position for such a small matter as biweekly meetings. Drawing from the one meeting I have attended, I cannot even claim them to be tedious or dull. Somehow, despite revolving around normally monotonous subjects, they felt less formal and professional and more relaxed and social. Furthermore, it would only be logical to remain Head Nurse, if only to work directly with Doctor McCoy and acquire the skills and knowledge that I had yet to learn. The doctor within me was unbelievably pleased with my position because while I am not necessarily the head of the Medical Unit, as Head Nurse, I at least had greater authority and answer only to the CMO.

However, it seemed that the Vulcan and Human within me were constantly at odds as the Human half of me, is shaken and scared, wanting nothing more than to leave my position, leave the Enterprise, and if possible, leave behind the entire space sector if only to avoid coming face with my brother every other morning at the staff meeting.

...

My attempts to mediate at what the crew dubbed, “early morning,” were interrupted by knocking at the door. 

As Head Nurse, I had the privilege of having an individual room aboard the Enterprise. A luxury I realized quickly my first night aboard, as I turned up the heat to mirror the temperature that had once resonated on Vulcan. After having a number of subordinates come knocking to my door with paperwork in need of immediate signatures I had become rather adequate at racing to the room’s control console and turning down the temperature to what passed as adequate for humans. So as to not raise suspicion of the visitor by opening the door and having a gust of heat escape the room.

Therefore, in less than 0.9 minutes, my room had been rid of its Vulcan heat and I was opening the door to a very grumpy doctor.

“Senior Officer Meeting,” he said in lieu of a greeting, “Let’s go.” With that, he gestured impatiently for me to exit my doorway and proceed down the hall. 

Though we have only been working together for four days, I already knew better than to try to argue or hold a conversation with the doctor so soon after he woke up. So I accepted the silence between us as we walked to what I assumed would be a conference room. He surprised me however, by offering a reason for the sudden meeting without prompting.

“The Captain holds a Senior Officer Meeting every other morning so get used to being deprived an extra hour of sleep,” the Doctor began by saying. I didn’t bother to point out that that lost hour meant little to me, considering that I only required 5 hours of sleep as a half-Vulcan. Nor did I bother pointing out that I was half-Vulcan to start with.

“Since I know you didn’t transfer here from a different starship,” McCoy continued, I stated mildly but he seemed not to notice my taken back expression at his knowledge of my background, “I’ll just say you should be thankful that it’s only an hour since some captains have been known to hold daily 2 hour meetings. So this means, don’t miss the meetings since the Captain’s technically not asking for a lot.”

I bristled slightly at his warning. I would never miss a meeting anyway, regardless of if I wanted to be there or not.

“The meetings are meant to let everyone know what’s going on in different parts of the ship with different sections of the crew. It just helps to keep everything running if a Senior Officer gets injured and is stuck in Sickbay that the other members already know what is going on in his department.”

Though he seemed to be talking more to himself at this point than me, I nodded in understanding.

We paused just short of a conference room that was slowly filling with crewmembers that all looked rather rumpled and sleep deprived. 

McCoy hesitated before turning to face me fully for the first time this morning. 

“Listen, Gray…” he paused, clearly out of his depths with what he was trying to say.

I cocked my head to the side, in an attempt to look curious and approachable. It only seemed to make him more uncomfortable.

“You’re gonna feel out of place in there for a while,” he started slowly. That didn’t make any sense, I failed to see how a room could make me feel misplaced. “Everyone in there has been through hell and back, what with that whole Narada Incident.” 

His last two words had me mentally reeling back. It was so much more than an Incident. The name that the humans had decided upon for the loss of Vulcan felt so inadequately termed to stand in for the loss of billions of innocent citizens and the destruction of an entire planet...the destruction of my home. 

“Don’t be discourage, Gray, ‘cause it’s a tight-knit group in there and it might take some time for you to find your place.”

At this, he reached out to pat me awkwardly on the shoulder and out of instinct, I flinched, bracing for a blow that never came. He didn’t seem to notice thankfully.

While I did not understand his need to explain this to me, I did understand that the physical gesture was meant to soothe any uncertainties I might have.

With this completed, he seemed to breathe a sigh of relief at having finished his attempt to reassure me and turned to enter his code into the console, motioning for me to enter first when the doors opened.

Upon entering the room, I did not understand why he felt the need to warn me about feeling out of place. 

As the Captain had yet to arrive, I noted that all the individuals in the room held a Senior Officer position; therefore, no one could claim a higher status or more power. Furthermore, it was plain to see that age would neither be an issue, as everyone appeared to be around my age, save for one boy who looked particularly young. It was also pleasing to see a mix of species in the room, it was something that had clearly lacked on Vulcan, save for Spock, my mother, and myself.

No one appeared particularly...intimidating to deal with, but that could be attributed to their bleary eyes and obvious fatigue. These last few days of settling into the ship after the disaster they had apparently faced had been harrowing on everyone. There was damage to be fixed, families to be contacted, and crew member positions to filled.

McCoy nodded to a seat, indicating which was to be mine for the next five years, before stomping off to join the other Senior Officers flocking to the replicators. It mildly amused me to watch as the crowd parted as the Doctor neared, as they allowed him to bypass the line and head straight to the replicator. There was nothing particularly shocking about this simple deference, as I had quickly learned that the crew would do just about anything to save themselves from McCoy’s pre-caffeinated wrath. Moreover, if that rampage wasn’t enough to scare any individual into giving up their place in line for the doctor, their respect for his lifesaving work made up for their lack of fear. 

I was surprised however, when McCoy came back with two cups and laid one in front of me. In it, was the tea that I favored. At my questioning gaze, the Doctor gave a careless shrug and slumped into the chair at my right, before dedicating himself to his coffee. I brushed away the unexpected warmth that filled me, attributing it simply to the sip of tea I had taken. He must have noticed, me drinking it in our office while updating patient files.

As I waited for the meeting to start and the absentee Captain to arrive, I glanced around the room to study its occupants and their interactions. It was then that I understood why McCoy worried I would feel “left out.”

I saw their familiarity with each other plainly as they easily brushed past each other at close proximity, but never flinched when a hand was laid on their shoulder in passing nor when an unexpected presence appeared at their back. It was even more obvious in the way they slumped into their seats, one by one, each clutching a cup of coffee possessively, yet teasingly reaching out to steal a sip from another cup. The warmth they plainly wore in their sleepy gazes as they snatched their stolen cups back was further softened by the easy banter they exchanged with one another. Even the way they wordlessly had designated cups that were lined on the counter next to the replicator seemed almost intimate.

It made me uncomfortable to witness and even more uncomfortable not to be a part of. The small part of me that always ached at the sight of this easy familiarity came to life. It was moments like these when I felt my loneliness acutely and my thoughts would drift to Spock.

Though I felt like an intruder in these private moments, few paid attention to me, other than a few curious expressions every now then. But other than that, they seemed content to sate their need for coffee before satisfying their curiosity regarding the stranger in their midst.

I forced myself to turn away from these interactions and their guarded glances at me. At least the latter was familiar…it was the way they used to treat on Vulcan...as an outsider.

At this, I suddenly understood the Doctor’s surprisingly perceptive words and tried to repeat his words and voice in my head.

As I turned my attention pointedly back to my own cup of tea, I realized that the Doctor had been watching me while I had watched everyone else. I easily slid in to a neutral expression of preoccupation but it was too late, as he had already sensed my discomfort. It surprised me, the ease with which he swiveled his chair slowly to bring our shoulders softly into contact. It made me wonder if it was something he had done with Nurse Chapel but quickly brushed the thought aside because, illogically, his action did make me feel reassured and a tiny bit less alone. 

At that the point, the conference room doors opened to reveal a grinning and chipper Captain who strode confidently to his chair, after making the seemingly prerequisite stop at the replicator for a cup of coffee.

McCoy shifted his chair away from me and I wondered why I was left feeling bereft. 

"Okay, let's get this thing started," the Captain yelled from the head of the conference table, while spinning his chair lazily in a circle. There were two seats that yet to be filled, but the meeting began nonetheless. 

The room of bleary-eyed senior officers turned their attention from their emptying coffee mugs to the front of the room. No one seemed particularly awake, but rather they all seemed to be looking for salvation in the distasteful brown liquid that humans seemed to favor. All the while, I carefully sipped my tea, which was no match for the traditional Vulcan flavors, but was a suitable substitute. 

"Bones! Let’s start with you introducing your new, lovely Head Nurse." Again, a wink was sent in my direction. Similar to the other day, I ignored it, having yet to complete my research on the subject.

Doctor McCoy sent a baleful glare in the Captain's direction, which was dampened by his sleepy, rumpled appearance. It seemed as if he had just rolled out of bed as well. Nonetheless, he nodded in my direction, where I sat just to his left. 

"Nurse Gray here--" McCoy was roughly cut off by the Captain's pointed cough.

"I think you mean, ‘Doctor’ Gray, don't you, Bones?"

At this a few eyes seemed to light with recognition and a woman of African descent even managed a small chuckle and eye roll at the Captain's reference.

The CMO shot another glare at the Captain, who was still spinning in circles in his chair, but corrected his mistake, albeit with heavy sarcasm, "Doctor Gray, as I was saying, is the new Head Nurse." At this, a few bleary eyes wandered in my direction, while McCoy continued on, "So if any of you idiots manage to land yourself in my Sickbay," there was a pointed look at the blue-eyed man at the head of conference table by all the senior officers, "Gray will be the one to keep me from hypoing you into next solar system for your carelessness."

At this blatant threat, eyes darted to me again, appearing decidedly more alert as they stared their fill at the woman that apparently would be saving them from the Doctor. What an interesting twist in irony.

Before this threat could be followed up by another of McCoy's glares, that seemed to dare the staff to see what would happen if they got injured, the conference room doors slid open once more.

"Mr. Spock! Everything okay on the Science Laboratories?" the Captain called out to the new arrival.

While I had known that he is the First Officer of the Enterprise, it was jarring to actually see him fulfilling his post. Clad in blue Starfleet officer uniform and black slacks, he seemed foreign and distant from the brother I had left behind on Vulcan. Of course, there was something that remained unchanged. His Vulcan hair for one seemed to have changed neither in style nor length. Even the color of his skin was just as pale as it had been when we were growing up, untouched by years under the Terran Sun. His height, for the most part, seemed unchanged, but somehow, he simply seemed bigger and possibly even more filled out. 

However, this could just be the bias of a little sister, who always saw her brother as biggest and strongest person in the entire universe. Years later, just being the same room from him made me want to relax and give in to the familiar, safe and protected feeling he seemed to resonate. As a child, I had basked in his presence, but now, I wanted nothing more than to escape him because he made me want to let my guard down. The problem is: he is the one I need to protect myself against.

As he strode towards to his chair at the Captain's right hand, I slowly shifted myself to be partly hidden behind McCoy's slumped form. I felt my lips twitch in amusement. It almost felt like a twisted game of hide-and-seak, which he had despised playing when we were younger. He hated having me out of his sight. 

My attempts to avoid his gaze were needless however, as my brother kept his eyes straight ahead as he walked by. Somethings never change. Yet, it was surreal to watch him sitting in the conference room after years of hearing and seeing nothing of him. Then, to have him suddenly before me, in the flesh, caused an unexpected pang to shoot through me. 

'Don't think about it,' my mind softly repeated.

"The minor explosion was contained within the Laboratory's walls. There was minimal contamination and damage to surrounding areas. Ensign Kalagen and another crewmember however, were in the room when the explosion occurred and have sustained a number of injuries," Spock reported. 

Though I had been studiously avoiding looking in direction, my eyes shot up at the barely audible hesitation in his tone. But it seemed no one seemed to notice the slight how he had purposely omitted the name of the second injured crew member, nor the darting glance he shot at the one chair that was unoccupied. Everyone save the Captain apparently, as he gazed long at my brother, seemingly having their own conversation. The easy grin that I had thought to be constant expression, slid off quickly.

"An explosion? God damn it man, keep a tighter leash on your science officers. Do you know what would happen it had blown through the bulk?" McCoy exploded in what, at first glance appeared like anger, but was truly worry, while shooting up in his seat. I mirrored the Doctor's position as he agitatedly shifted forward in his seat, somehow just managing to stay out of my brother's line of sight.

"I am well aware of the consequences that would occur had the bulk be breached, Doctor McCoy," Spock replied smoothly, "However, Ensign Kalagen had no way of knowing that the experiment would result in an explosion and therefore can only be partly held accountable for his actions."

Of course Spock would defend the poor boy. After all, how many accidents had he caused, all in the name of scientific experiment and curiosity. Following the first five or ten incidents, my mother had given up on worry and settled instead on exasperation and amusement. 

"Perhaps, your attention would be better served in Sickbay as Helmsman Sulu seems to be having a reaction to the spores released by the explosive reaction of the plant they had been experimenting on." 

The entire conference room seemed to awaken. Though they had hardly seemed phased by the explosion, they now donned a suddenly solemn expression. Eyes that were once bleary with sleep were suddenly bright with attentiveness. Everyone was alert, hanging off of Spock's every word. I found it odd that my this new found attentiveness all started when he had mentioned a crew member by the name of Sulu--the one he had purposely omitted earlier. Alarmed gazes were also shot at the one vacant chair in the room, as if they were hoping that Helmsman Sulu would appear on it. 

McCoy was suddenly on his feet. The severity of the situation struck me, when I realized he had not even reacted to my brother's underhand insult at where the Doctor's expertise and knowledge lie. 

While I had made it a point to challenge McCoy every step of the way--since and even before becoming Head Nurse--I did not object when he roughly commanded me to follow him back to Sickbay. Though my obedience was partly out of desperation to escape from my brother, the other half was perpetuated by a sudden need to help the man that meant so much to all these people...that seemed to mean something to Spock. 

Often times, back on Vulcan where I head earned my title as a certified Doctor--before the Captain had rechristened me after a Terran Television show--it was not uncommon to have patients in critical condition, to go the duration of their stay at the hospital without receiving a single visitor. Spouses, co-workers, and acquaintances alike saw no point in stopping by, claiming it to be an illogical waste of time that can better be spent meditating or working.

Somehow, I could already tell that that would not be the case aboard the Enterprise. Just a glance backward at the stoney, anxious expressions had me fighting the urge to run up to Sickbay, lest these senior officers beat me there first. 

One particular boy--for he surely could be no more than 18 given his obvious youth in his face and his slight build--seemed particularly stricken. With eyes wide and blood draining from his face, I worried that McCoy and I might have to drag him up to Sickbay with us, on a stretcher if he were to fall unconscious. Before this could happen however, the woman of African descent intervened. She hurried to his side, murmuring quiet reassurances that I pretended not to hear. I was thankful she managed to lure the boy back into the safety of his chair and off of his trembling legs. The rest of the officers followed suit, staring at one another with gazes that somehow managed to say what words could not.

So even as I hurried to stay in McCoy's shadow and safely out of my brother's sight, my mind was already back in Sickbay, with a man by the name of Sulu.


	5. I'll Breathe For You

_He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe._

I did not need my doctorate to realize this as McCoy and I burst into the room to find a red-faced man of Chinese descent struggling to take in oxygen, desperately. His hands grasped at his throat in a fruitless attempt to breathe. 

The entire room was in a frenzy. Everyone seemed to be feeding off the anxiety that the patient exuded.

“Calm him, Grey!” the Doctor commanded, “I’ll get the serum.”

At the Doctor McCoy’s sudden burst in action and the general chaos that seemed to pervade the Sickbay, I hypothesized that this man was the famous Helmsman Sulu.

To my left, McCoy shouted to Nurse Chapel for a hypo to calm the swelling of the man’s airways. Sulu must have had an unexpected reaction to the explosion, which released and activated the spores of the plant that had been the basis of the experiment. 

The Doctor’s demand was then followed up by a number of curses and insults directed towards the poor man. As if the suffocation Sulu was suffering was not punishment enough, he was now subjected to McCoy’s wrath. It was hardly a fair fight however, as the patient was incapable of breathing and thus, unable to defend himself. 

This mattered little though, because the small panicked wheezing that he was barely managing was becoming fainter and fainter with each passing moment. Soon enough, even that would fade.

I ran to our patient, who, despite being bruised and bloody, still managed to resist the nurses’ attempts to pacify his struggle. His eyes darted around the room wildly with pupils blown out in adrenaline and his sight too clouded by fear to register what he was seeing. 

Sulu’s panic was exasperating the problem. While the spores he inhaled might have caused his airways to begin to constrict, his self-induced panic attack would cause them to fully close. The more he panicked, the faster his airways would close.

“Go help Doctor McCoy with serum,” I ordered the nurses, easily falling back into my role as a figure of authority. It almost felt as if I was back on Vulcan as a Doctor, commanding my team during a medical crisis.

The nurses gratefully accepted my dismissal, quickly disappearing to aid the franctic Doctor. 

“Sulu,” I called gently, “Sulu, you need to calm down.”

He paid me no mind.

“Sulu, listen to my voice,” I commanded, “You were in an explosion in the laboratory, but you’re safe now in Sickbay.”

His eyes wildly darted to mine. Before I could lose his attention, I continued.

“Sulu, my name is Doctor Gray.” There was no indication that he understood my words, but at the smooth, relaxed quality of my voice, the fear in his eyes seemed to abate slightly. 

“I know you’re scared and you can’t breathe, but you need to be strong and fight your panic. By calming down, you can help yourself and Doctor McCoy by beginning to relax your airways.” 

As our gazes held, I was overwhelmed by how young the frightened man looked as he gazed at me for desperate reassurance and the promise that my words were honest. He reminded me suddenly on my brother. Spock had worn that same uncertain, weary expression as a child hesitantly looking for approval and affection. 

Sulu closed his eyes in concentration. A moment passed and his breathing was becoming increasingly faint.

“You can do it, Sulu,” I cheered him on quietly, “Just try to relax.”

Another moment passed. His breathing didn’t improve. If anything, it seemed to get worse.

Behind me, I could hear Doctor McCoy’s agitated yelling, “What do you mean we ran out? This is the Enterprise, how can Starfleet not equip us with…”

The sudden outburst of noise and panic was enough to override the soothing calm I had attempted to distract with him. His eyes opened. The desperation and fear that had ebbed was growing at an alarming rate. Sulu was losing what little control he had left and I had lost his attention. The wildness in his eyes returned and our connection broke. Once more, he began to struggle against his restraints.

Words meant little now, so I refocused my attention on hindering his agitated movements, which were only serving to deplete what little oxygen he had left in his body. Each move he made further entrenching the remaining the shards of glass and metal imbedded in his skin, even further into his body. 

I had sought to pacify Sulu as I reached out to stop him from accidently hurting himself. In this careless action, I failed to realize what would happen the moment our skin came in contact. With my mental guards weak and fragile, they crumbled easily against the onslaught of emotions transferred. 

Suddenly, I was just as helpless to feelings of fear, panic and desperation as Sulu felt. 

It was as if I drowning in a sea of distress and terror. There was no reprieve or relief, just endless miles of water that seemed alive in its attempts to drag me down into its depths. 

I felt his suffocation. I felt his fear. I felt his desperation. I felt his terror. I felt his helplessness.

The strength of his emotions made me feel as if I were reliving the destruction of Vulcan for the second time. In this moment, it was as if all my worst fears were coming true and I was just a bystander, helpless to do anything but watch. This level of panic, desperation, and terror would have knocked a Vulcan unconscious—if only because such heightened emotions were unprecedented in a species that favored logic. Even the half-human part of me could only buffer the emotional onslaught to an extent, as I jerked my hand away, hard enough to stumble backwards and onto the floor, winded and stunned.

Dimly, I heard voices shouting behind me. Blurry hands were reaching for me and out of instinct, I jerked away. I would not risk another emotional onslaught so soon.

My shields were completely shattered. Nothing was left to guard against my emotions, Sulu’s emotions, and the telepathic bonds that I carefully kept close. I was helpless as the lingering desperation and terror that had overwhelmed me, overflowed through these connections.

So even as I lay on the Sickbay floor, surrounded by frantic nurses and an even more frantic doctor, I knew that in some part of the universe, three different people had just experienced the emotions that Sulu had passed onto me, which I had unintentionally passed onto them.

…

Amanda Grayson’s POV

When marrying the Ambassador of Vulcan all those years ago, I was not ignorant in what that would mean for my human heritage and emotion. It would not do to inadvertently insult my husband’s people in a show of feelings and disregard for logic. 

And so, with time, I learned when to quietly hide away my emotions and don the logic that Vulcans favored. Only to my family did I reveal my happiness and sorrow, whether in expression, words, or through the mental bonds that linked us to each other.

After the fall of Vulcan and the scare we had suffered as a family, I made it a point to check these links every morning as a way of reassuring myself that the children and husband that I loved are all healthy and whole. Even physically separated, our bonds keep us mentally and emotionally together. 

It is here that Sarek shares with me the love he feels for our children and myself.

It is here that Spock’s amusement and affection leaks through.

It is here that Selena’s terror and fear overflowed.

Despite my human heritage, which made me more adept to emotions and all that they brought, the sudden opening of the link I shared with my daughter had me on my knees and gasping for breath.

My surroundings blurred and I was somewhere between the garden in which I was physically present and a laboratory filled with metal and glass, that blurred at times with a wide, sterilized room fit for a hospital. 

I was lost in emotions that were not my own. In the midst of this foreign fear and desperation, I reached my husband’s mind of logic and collectivity, only to find it likewise in shambles.

…

Sarek’s POV

The ambassadors were gathering for fifth conference regarding the political ties that had been left on uncertain grounds following the Narada Incident and the loss of Vulcan.

As the Vulcan Ambassador, it is my duty to represent my people and our political needs. We could not afford to appear weak in the aftermath of our loss. The time for mourning had passed and the period for recovery lay ahead. It is my job to reassure the Federation Planets of New Vulcan’s strength and stability. It is only logical to look towards the future and the prevention of such genocide. 

Two speakers that had yet to introduce themselves and the planet they represent. This leaves me with an additional 11.6 minutes to prepare myself for my speech. 

Two point three seconds later, I felt an irregular opening in the bond linking to my daughter. 

Zero point one seconds after this observation, my shields were being bombarded by emotions of an unusually strong intensity.

Vulcans are taught in childhood how to close bonds in order to seal off emotions transmitted between links. After all, it is illogical to suffer under emotions that are not one’s own. 

Furthermore, as I am to speak in 9.2 minutes, it is only logical that I momentarily shut the bond before my shields are completely dissolved by the onslaught—which would take 15.9 seconds more.

The Vulcan in me logically sought to seal my bond with Selena shut. After all, it is always possible to mediate and repair the link and damage once my speech was over. It is only logical to prioritize the needs of my planet over my daughter.

However, the father in me rebelled against the idea of leaving my daughter to fend off her overwhelming fear and distress. Never before, had I felt such strong emotions transmitted through our bond, even after the loss of the Vulcan. At that point, she had slammed closed the link on her end, supposedly to spare us from what she called, “her illogical human emotions.”

Now though, the link was thrown open and I could feel the damage she had been hiding.

Against the emotions the poured through the link, I attempted to probe the mental wounds Selena has been suffering, before I felt my wife’s bond open as well. She was struggling against the same onslaught of emotion, as she is less adept at controlling telepathic bonds. 

I pushed aside my discovery, settling instead to ‘take it one problem at time,’ as my wife would say, because right now, my shields were wearing thin and Amanda’s had dissolved all together. Yet, where we were weak, the emotions continued on strong, further magnified by the opening of the bond between my wife and I…and Spock.

My son was likewise suffering under attack.

…

Spock’s POV

For four years, our bond sat empty and silent—a mockery of what it had once been and a painful reminder of what I had let go. 

Therefore, I was, as the humans would say it, ‘taken back’ at our bond’s sudden opening.

The conference room disappeared before my eyes and the Captain was no longer at my side attempting to cajole the Senior Officers into a less dismal mood. Even the prevailing scent of replicated coffee, that seemed to permeate the entirety ship in the morning, was no longer filling my senses.

Instead, I was lying on the floor in a room surrounded by faces swarming around me. Everything felt vaguely familiar, though it was too blurred to be distinct and for me to be certain. If I had to guess, I would say I was in a hospital or in Sickbay.

I struggled to draw one breathe after another and for a moment, I wondered if maybe I had inhaled what Sulu had fallen victim to.

Then, I felt the emotions. 

Instinctively, I knew that they were not my own. Yet, the strength by which they surged through me had me doubting my certainty. I felt just as conflicted as I had been as a child. 

Fighting against the current of emotions that threatened to knock me back, my shields very nearly failed when I traced the fear, panic, and desperation to the link that connected me to Selena. 

She had opened our bond. 

After four years, she had opened our bond. 

My shock was quickly swept away by the continued battering my mental shields were suffering. 

The next wave of fear was my own. I was scared for my sister, scared for whatever had caused her to lose her telepathic control to the extent that she had inadvertently opened the bond between us.

The blurred hospital surroundings that I had fallen into faded. Instead, I was faced with eyes that illogically blue and lit with concern. Vaguely, I could make out the Captain’s lips shaping my name. Uhura kneeled just behind him, eyes wide and worried. Chekov stood to her right with Scotty to her left. They all seemed frantic and worried. I wanted to calm them and tell them that such concern was unnecessary and illogical, but I was swept away once more by Selena’s emotions.

There was too much feelings and sensations surrounding me, just as there was too much emotion inside of me. I closed my eyes, focusing internally, because that was where the problem was. Selena.

I mentally reached out to whatever bonds I could, to anchor myself against the onslaught. Here, I held on first to my mother and then to my father, feeling like a child just learning how to control my telepathic bonds. 

With what was left of my telepathic control, I refortified my shields where my bond connected to Selena just enough to plug the majority of the leak coming through. I felt my father follow my lead, before lending aid to my mother to do the same. With the flow of emotion slowed, thinking was no longer painful.

_She suffers under the weight of emotions,_ my father spoke softly.

_The fear she feels is too strong to meditate away,_ my mother added, _we must counteract it._

_What do you propose?_ I questioned, Selena had always cared more for healing, but I suddenly wished, that I had taken an interest as well, if only to be able to help here when she requires aid. 

_Counter her fear by sending her feelings of happiness and love. Counter her panic with emotions of reassurance and affection,_ my mother advised.

At this, my father and I hesitated. It was contrary to our Vulcan nature to so freely transmit such emotions forcefully through our bond. Yet, it was only logical that we fight illogical emotions with illogical methods.

My father and I acquiesced. This was the closest I had felt to my family since I had left Vulcan and Selena had severed our bond.

One by one, our bonds lit up, as we countered each wave of fear and panic that Selena sent out with emotions of our own. Drawing on memories of happier times, we allowed feelings of joy, love, and affection to overwhelm our minds and spill into the bonds that tied us to one another. It was a positive feedback loop, in which we each helped to fight the distress and terror that she could not fight back by herself.

In this moment at least, I had my sister back and our bond was pulsing with life and love.


	6. Of Bonds, Pain, and Sunshine

Happiness. Joy. Elation. Peace. Content. Love. 

The blind terror that had clouded my mind suddenly parted in the face of such pure emotions flooding through fragile and disused bonds.

My mind welcomed the emotions as they washed over broken mental shields and shattered walls of logic and reason, calmed the turmoil of terror and panic, and healed what mental damage it could while soothing the rest of the numerous aches and pains. 

It was simultaneously too much and not enough. 

For a moment, I selfishly threw myself into the emotions and bonds that I had long deprived myself of. 

In that instant, I was free and loneliness was a foreign concept and the future was mine to shape and live. I was just that little girl on Vulcan, with a brother that was also my protector, playmate, and best friend. I was back to being a sister who need nothing but his love, affection, and approval. 

A part of me wondered when that had changed. Another part of me questioned whether it had even changed. 

Then, just as most returns to reality go, the delusions passed and realization came back abruptly and painfully. 

The floor was unforgivingly hard and cold.

My head throbbed from where it had made contact with the floor. The rest of my body was no better, so stiff and sore that even the slightest rise and fall of my chest generated a chain reaction of pain all down my torso and back. Logically, I was well aware that such a relatively small physical fall could not result in this level of pain. No matter how much my body craved a hypo for the discomfort and hurt radiating from every bone and muscle in my body, it would do no good. Not when the actual source of the pain was my mind. 

Even willing myself to open my eyes, caused sharp bursts of pain to erupt in every and any part of my skull. The breaking of my mental barriers had been so abrupt and forcefully done that pain had overflowed from my mind to my body.

It was too much for me to handle.

And then, it wasn’t.

The pain simply wasn’t there anymore.

Because someone else was enduring it for me.

Gently, I probed around my mind. The bonds were wide-open, something that hasn’t happen in four years.

Mother was swiftly building makeshift walls around the outskirts of my mind. They would have to be fortified at a later time, but would for now serve the purpose of holding my mind together and keeping everything else out. Though my mind was sluggish and slow, I didn’t miss how she had added an extra layer of defense against the bonds. She was giving me a way out—a temporary means to filter and block the information flowing from my mind to the bonds. I weakly managed to convey my thanks in a thin trickle of emotion that was received with love and worry. I could almost hear her wondering, if she was doing the right thing.

Father was more proficient at healing. I could feel him sealing up gashes in my mind, where the shattering of my walls had caused other damage to my mental capacities and facilities. Again, I sent a tendril of gratitude. In return, he communicated a sense of duty and impressed upon me the importance of staying safe and being cautious. Beneath this logical cover, I felt the love a father holds for his daughter and beneath that, a protective rage against any who dare harm her. I didn’t dare explain the truth of the situation. Not while Spock was still in my mind.

It was he who was shielding me from the brunt of pain and dulled the rest of the aches that still broke through. He was sharing my hurt and fatigue. 

Even after all those years of silence I had forced between us, he was the still playing the role of the protector. 

I couldn’t tell if it was Spock or myself who was my surprised when this thought was projected through our bond. 

I blame the tenderness of my mind and the residual pain for making me forgetful and careless.

Before I could maneuver the temporary shields to block the bonds I shared with my family, an echo of answer stopped me short. I was surprised that Spock had bothered to answer in this uneasy truce we seemed to be holding.

It was the exact answer I had been dreading.

Just as I brought the shields down to censure the bonds I shared with my family, my reaction to his words managed to slip under the wall and through to Spock’s link.

…

I could feel the confusion and question on Spock’s side of the bond, but the newly placed walls helped prevent any more unintentional communication. I ignored it the best I could. 

With my shields in place, the situation became a trade off of priority. On one hand, Spock could no longer feel nor hear my thoughts. The risk of being exposed skyrockets after all when one is sharing a mind with the very person one is trying to avoid. 

However, shutting Spock out of my mind had its own set of side effects. For one, with Spock no longer shielding my mind from the pain and fatigue—they returned with a vengeance.

It would be easy to just give in and reopen the bonds, if only to dull the sharp pangs and aches.

However, it would also be just as easy for Spock to discover that I was actually only a few floors away from him, rather than the space quadrants he believed lay between us.

I didn’t let myself consider this possibility for long. The pain was mine to bear. Spock shouldn’t need to play the hero and protector again. Not when I’d already worked so hard to force him out of it.

I began the process of shifting my mind away from focusing internally to externally. Right now, I could do more for the physical world around me than I could for my mental state.

With only weak shields in place and my mind battered and bruised, it was like losing the 6th sense that only touch telepaths possessed. 

I was able to determine that no more than a minute had passed since Sulu and I had accidentally made contact. It was pleasing to know that I had not spent too long in the state of shock and healing through a trance.

However, even with my walls in place, I calculated that I had no more than 2 minutes before mental and physical pain would be able to pierce through the temporary barriers and leave me, once more, incapacitated.

I needed to get to Sulu.

…

Pushing aside frantic hands and ignoring orders to stay put, I staggered up to my feet.

“Dammit Gray! Stay down!”

“Hold Sulu still!”

“God dammit man! Stop struggling!”

The patient in question seemed just as determined as I was to ignore orders the Doctor’s orders. 

Stumbling in direction of his biobed, I gracelessly, but successfully, weaved around disarrayed nurses and a frazzled doctor to reach him. All I needed to do was touch him one more time. 

Skin touched skin. This time, I was ready for the onslaught of emotions transmitted. 

My hands wrapped uncompromisingly around his wrists. The Vulcan strength allowed me to easily pin him down.

Looking into his crazed and panicked eyes, I said softly, “Sulu. You need to calm down and breathe.”

I felt what he felt. In turn, I allowed him to feel the emotions that my family had passed on to me. The calm, safety, joy, and happiness needed to combat the fear that threatened to overwhelm him.

“You’re safe now. There is nothing stopping you from breathing, except yourself.”

Through my touch, his fear fought against the happiness I tried to channel into him. 

For a moment, I thought it wouldn’t work.

“Come on, Sulu, do this for yourself.” I coaxed, holding his gaze.

Slowly, shallow gasps gave way to raspy breaths. Glassy eyes slowly cleared as the desperation and fear dissipated. The sensation of drowning ebbed and the panic subsided. 

However, no amount of happiness and joy and elation that I poured into him could clear the hurt of betrayal and the confusion that lingered. Those, only he could heal.

I let the emotions that flowed between us come to gentle stop.

Sulu’s eyes were lucid and knowing as they held mine. 

Easing my grip on his wrists, I pulled away completely, ending the physical contact.

Through dry, parched lips he croaked, “Thank you.” Then, gave into the exhaustion and darkness.

The entire Sickbay seemed to relax in relief. No one was dead or dying and everything was as it should be.

McCoy appeared at my side, carrying a green vial which he connected to Sulu’s IV.

“Good job, Gray.” He muttered gruffly, seemingly uncomfortable with giving out praise and approval rather than criticism.

I felt an illogical surge of happiness at finally not being at odds with the Doctor. It was pleasing to see him something other than a frown and grimace grace his face.

I would have smiled, in thanks at his approval, if I weren’t so busy keeping myself up right. I had underestimated the exertion that it would take to both receive emotions and transmit them through physical contact.

Instead, I gave a swift nod of thanks—which only served to make my head spin—before making an attempt to move towards the office. The problem was that the entire room seemed to move with me. The floors shifted and walls spun. The room and its contents seemed to distort and blur as the aftermath of calming Sulu caught up with me. 

Blurred figures moved towards me and the shrill warning cry of a bystander could be heard.

I didn’t bother trying to brace for the impact. This would be the second time today I ended up on the floor.

Or at least, it would have been if Doctor McCoy hadn’t managed to grab hold of me.

Jerking me back to my feet and propping me up against Sulu’s bed, he pulled out a penlight out his pocket and began to check my eyes.

“Well, it seems that you’ve managed to concuss yourself on your second day of work.” McCoy groused. His eyebrows were drawn tight while he pursed his lips. 

My mind ached too much to decipher whether his words were an insult or his typical gruff humor. 

I didn’t know how seriously to take his diagnosis. It was possible for Vulcans to become concussed. However, in this case, I was more willing to contribute the damage to the effects of shattering one’s mental shields. Thankfully, I had the presents of mind not the share this diagnosis with the doctor.

“Come on, up you go, Gray.”

I was too weak to reject his assistance. Besides, I wasn’t sure my pride could take sprawled on the floor twice in a single shift.

If he noticed I was abnormally heavy for a human of my gender and age, he made no comment. I recalled vaguely that it was an insult among humans to comment on such matters in reference to females.

Drained and disoriented, I slumped against his side, allowing him to wrap a firm arm around my waist to guide me. I was careful though, to avoid skin contact. I could not risk a second accidental transferal of emotions. The temporary shields would not withstand a second battering and my mind would not survive a second shattering of my mental shields.

Legs heavy and body stiff, I forced myself to lift one foot after the other as I was led away. 

Thoughts were fuzzy and few in between. But I spared one on how McCoy was deceptively strong and well built, if the firm torso I was leaning against was any indication.

It was only when an empty biobed appeared before me that I began to protest and fight against McCoy’s aid. 

“I do not require—.” 

“I’m the Doctor. You’re a nurse. You’re listening—.”

“I’m not just a nurse,” I corrected dazedly, too focused on refusing to get onto the bed to realize my mistake.

Thankfully, McCoy only narrowed his eyes and shot back, “Fine, head nurse, you happy? Now get on this bed!”

“No. I’m perfectly fine.” 

He scoffed. “If this is your idea of fine, then we’re going to be having problems in my Sickbay about letting concussed patients out of treatment.”

I tried to clear the fog in my mind long enough to glare back, but couldn’t decide which of the doubles I was seeing was actually McCoy.

“What are you glaring over there for, Gray?”

Suffice to say, my attempt to prove myself coherent, failed.

“I do not require a biobed.” I maintained stubbornly.

If his arm hadn’t been wrapped around my waist, this would be the moment he threw it up in exasperation. Instead, he settled for renewing his glare and tugging me away from the biobed and toward our office.

Victory.

I made an attempt to straighten up, only to be tucked right back against McCoy’s firm side. His hand tightened against my waist warningly.

“Not so fast. You may have gotten away with having to get on the biobed, but you sure as hell are laying down to rest.” He typed in his code and opened the office doors. “Sulu’s trained in hand-to-hand combat. No one just walks away from taking a hit from him.” 

My head spun as he swiftly maneuvered me through the office and onto the leather coach.

He disentangled his arm from around my waist and gently pushed me down on the couch.

The brown, worn leather was cool beneath my hands and through the layers of clothes I wore. I shivered, curling into myself and onto my side. I was too tired to even remember that I could ask the computer to raise the temperature of the room. 

There was no need however, as I felt the warmth of a thick, woolen blanket drape itself over me and a faded voice demanding that the room increase in temperature.

Everything still hurt, but at least the cold was dealt with

My mind ached from the intrusion it had suffered. My body ached from the fall. My heart ached from having to re-close the bond I shared with Spock.

Running my hands down the crisp, cool leather, I let myself fall away from the many hurts and instead focus on the comfort of warmth and the smell of alcohol and sunshine and home.


	7. The Comforts of Snoring

I emerged from my healing trance to the sound of snoring.

That, in itself, should have been alarming as I could not recall having fallen asleep with anyone present in the room.

Instead, I more or less dismissed the noise, too contented to bother trying to discern where and from whom the sound was being emitted. Somehow, when paired with the scent of whiskey and sunshine, the snoring seemed to just, fit. Ignoring the illogicality of the statement—a sound cannot logically be connected to the smell of alcohol and the rays of radiation emitted by the sun—I contently pulled the blanket closer and burrowed back into the leather couch. I relished the warmth. It was a welcomed relief to the constant cold that plagued me since I had boarded the starship.

A quick check indicated that the healing trance had fortified the defenses of my mind and healed the physical aches and pains. I reasoned: Time heals all wounds and so does sleep. Therefore, it is logical that I continue my respite.

The sense of familiarity, warmth, and comfort easily drew me back into sleep. Even the snoring was soothing as it broke up the silence I never knew I disliked falling asleep to.

A familiar beeping started up, interrupting the serenity of the room.

I was out of the couch on my feet before my mind fully awoke. It was a sound every Doctor learned to respond to immediately, automatically, and without thought.

A patient had woken up.

My eyes darted around the darken room as my mind scrambled to wake up and react as fast as my body had. 

The office was sparsely illuminated by light filtering through the window facing the Sickbay. In the dark, I could just make out the slumped figure of Doctor McCoy in the oversized leather armchair that had apparently been pulled close to the coach. He sat, fast asleep, within arms reach of the coach where I’d been sleeping. I didn’t know what to make of that.

It took longer for the beeping to register for him, but within seconds he too was roughly drawn back to consciousness.

Even in the dark, I could plainly see the fatigue and eye bags below his eyes. My internal clock informed me that I had been in my healing trance for no more than 3 hours, yet the Doctor looked run haggard already. Sulu and the other crewmember had already been on the mend when I had retreated to the office. What could have happened?

Before he could stand up and make for the door, I gently pushed him back into the armchair. 

He narrowed his eyes, “And what do you think you’re doing?”

“Sit,” I ordered, “I will see to the patient.”

“Now, wait just a minute,” he started, sputtering. “You’re concussed. Don’t think—.”

Before he could continue his protests, I swiftly exited the room and sharply closed the door behind me. 

A small victorious smile play on my lips as I crossed the Sickbay towards the beeping machine.

The sterile and cool air of Sickbay chased away any lingering warmth that I had enjoyed in the office. Even under three layers of clothing, the chill settled into my bones and bloodstream. I wonder how Spock dealt with such temperatures or if he too was somewhere on the ship piling on layers of clothes.

Grabbing the chart PADDs in passing, I noted that there were three, rather than the two I had expected. Frowning at the extra addition, I noted that three curtains were drawn around biobed stations indicating their use. Another patient must have come in during my healing trance, probably in critical condition as it would explain the Doctor’s haggard appearance. I felt poorly for leaving the Doctor to deal with it on his own. It was illogical to feel guilt. Circumstances being as they were, it had been logical to rest rather than attempt to heal patients in such a state. Yet, logic didn’t soothe the guilt at abandoning McCoy.

The Sickbay was quiet. Free of the panic and bustle that had plagued it just hours earlier. The other nurses had taken their leave or were off duty. For a Head Nurse and the Doctor, such luxuries could not be afforded. Only five days in to my career at Starfleet aboard the Enterprise and already I was realizing that respites in my room would be rare.

Silencing the beeping from the patient’s PADD, I moved towards the third biobed.

The patient name: Spock.

I fought the urge to run back to the office and wake the Doctor. 

I was hardly keen to test how well I could pass as a human and deceive my brother. Especially, not so soon after having our bond reopen and then, once more closed. Makeup and changes to my hair could only go so far. Furthermore, as Vulcan’s age slower than humans, my physical appearance had changed little from when he had last seen me on Vulcan. 

Taking a deep breath, I did a cursory scan through his charts to familiarize myself with the case and the patient.

The charts and patient information were extremely thorough. For all the Doctor’s grumbling about charts and patients, it was obvious the care he put into filing away information and making sure all procedures and events were documented. From the charts alone, it was possible for any doctor to know exactly what a patient had been through and what level of risk would be involved with a surgery or medication.

Spock’s list of previous injuries and surgeries were surprisingly extensive—ranging from burns to lacerations to gunshot wounds acquired on various mission to other planets and almost everything in between. Was there a weapon left in space that my brother hadn’t been on the receiving end of?

I was decidedly unimpressed with the carelessness my brother exhibited when it came to his own safety. It made me wonder if my choice to submit his Starfleet application had actually further endangered him, rather than save him.

I took deep breaths in a poor attempt to calm down before facing him. At this point, I was less afraid of him realizing my identity and more frightened that I might hit him over the head with his charts and inadvertently give myself away.

Pulling open the curtain, I subtly tried to angle face away from his line of sight by turning towards the computers instead.

“It says here that you went into shock due to a disturbance in your mental links?” I queried in a quietly. ‘Disturbance,’ that was what he was calling it.

“Affirmative.”

I turned away to needlessly fiddle with his patient charts and treatment plans to hide my distress. I had done this to him. In the charts, I could plainly read the neuro-scans the Doctor had taken upon his arrival. His pain receptors had surpassed their capacity and limitations. Thus, in a defensive attempt to save his mind from being overrun with pain, his body had simply shut down and forced him into a healing trance. 

I had done this to him. Who knows what would have happened to Spock had I not broken off our link and taken on my pain for myself. I had done this to him.

“Was your healing trance successful in repairing the damages done to your mental shields and bonds?” I asked, hoping he wouldn’t discern the tremble my voice had taken on.

“Affirmative. I, therefore, request to be released and approved for active duty. It would be illogical to remain in Sickbay when I am healed.” 

His request somehow sounded more like a demand and while he may look perfectly fine on the outside, his mind was a completely different matter and impossible to judge without observation.

“Unfortunately, that is not for you to decide.” 

At this point, my response was prompted by a mix of logic and spite. It never sat well with me when patients attempted to assert authority over doctors and nurses. 

“Doctor McCoy wrote in your chart to hold you over night for observations. The mind takes longer to heal than the body and any complications that do occur are much more fatal. Therefore, I’d get comfortable, Commander.” 

My response border lines insubordination. Yet, considering how everyone on this ship seems to think of that as an optional formality, I didn’t worry about being reprimanded.

Spock’s lips twitched downward as if he hadn’t been expecting my refusal of his ‘request.’ He’d only just suffered a major brain trauma and here he was, three hours later, hoping to get right back to work. Serves him right.

I bade him goodnight—poorly hiding how pleased I felt to finally have authority over him—before once more shutting the curtains to give him privacy.

The PADDs I held in my hand shook. It had been nerve wreaking to be in such close quarters with him alone. 

Hopefully, if Spock mentioned my poor bedside manor to the Doctor, McCoy would just dismiss it as part of insubordination, as it seemed to be a thing around here anyway, or call it an inevitable result of having to deal with the “know it all hobgoblin” as he liked to put it. The first time he’d called Spock that, I hadn’t known whether to be offended—as I too would be implicated a hobgoblin—or amused.

I breathed deeply, berating myself for reacting so poorly when it had been my choice after all to follow him onto this starship. It was bound to happen eventually.

Spock was the First Officer of the Enterprise. He went on away missions. He would get hurt eventually. I just never thought that I’d be the reason that landed him in Sickbay and so soon.

Breathe. I told myself firmly. Guilt does nothing.

Close your eyes and breathe. In. Out. In. Out.

I hadn’t known it was possible for Vulcans to have panic attack. Though, considering I am only half-Vulcan, I suppose the record stands unbroken.

A warm, heavy hand grasped my shoulder tight. My eyes flew open to meet a set of chocolate brown eyes. McCoy was leaned in close. His eyebrows were scrunched together and his frown, for once, was suspiciously absent.

“Feeling nauseous, Gray?” He asked, pulling out his ever handy tricorder. 

I shook my head wordlessly, too shocked by the physical contact to shape a proper sentence. Even through the layers I wore, the warmth radiating from the touch chased away my bone cold chill—an inevitable hazard working aboard a starship. But what was even more shocking, was the emotions being transmitted through the contact. 

It shouldn’t be possible. Touch-telepathy required skin to skin contact. I haphazardly checked that my mental shields were in place. They were. Yet, even knowing this, I could still clearly feel his concern and worry.

Unaware of the shock I was going through, McCoy continued to run scans with his tricorder. Checking the results and then running some more.

“Well, it seems like your concussion was only a mild case. The tricorder isn’t even picking up on it anymore. Your temperature and heart rate is abnormally high, though.” He frowned at the results. “Are you feeling feverish, dizzy, or lightheaded?” 

I shook my head, shifting nervously. Concussions shouldn’t heal that fast. We both knew that. 

“Hmmm, damn tricorder must be faulty.” He scowled down at the instrument in his hand as if it had personally wronged him. “I’ll see if I can get the Russian Wiz Kid to check it out.”

I was thankful when he finally released his grip, even if it meant losing the temporary warmth that seemed to radiate from the contact. 

“But either way,” he continued, “You should get some rest. You must still be feeling the after effects because you’re looking a bit green, Gray.” He said, squinting at me in the sparse lighting of the dimmed Sickbay.

The protest I had planning to make, died at his last comment as I hastily stepped back and away from the doctor’s keen eyes. I hadn’t noticed how close we’d been standing.

“I am feeling a bit nauseous now that you mention it,” I stammered hastily, stepping clumsily back, towards the exit and away from his scrutinizing gaze. The Vulcan grace I normally possessed deserted me whenever the Doctor was in close proximity.

As I made to turn away and make a hasty retreat from Sickbay, he called out once more.

“You know,” he paused, stumbling over words, “it might not be a good idea to let you go right away, Gray.” 

McCoy was flipping through completed patient PADDs, adding notes it seemed. He hated filling out charts the first time. It’s impossible to think he’d be willing to make updates for the fun of it.

The Doctor jerked his head towards our office without meeting gaze. “Bunk in there, I wanna keep you close,” he cleared his throat—a nervous habit— “just to make sure that concussion didn’t leave anymore side affects.” 

I blinked. 

“Of course,” I managed to choke out, nodding. Concussion patients were usually kept close for observation. It would be logical for me to remain in the vicinity. I was thankful that he hadn’t tried to force me back onto a biobed.

I headed towards the office and stepped through the doorway, but hesitated as the door began to swing close. Humans required more sleep that Vulcans and yet here I was heading back to rest and leaving him alone to run Sickbay for a second time. He needed sleep—not that he’d admit it. The only way to get him to do anything for himself was through insults and mind games. It seemed to his only level of operation. 

Before I could second guess myself I called out, “Rest would probably do you good too, Doctor. You look as if you’re going to fall over.” I grinned, this conversation reminded me of my first day and a similar argument we had had just previous to my sudden promotion. “You might start scaring patients again.”

I shut the door.

I hypothesize—since betting is illogical—that the good Doctor would storm into the room within 15 minutes.

The room felt comfortably warm and reminiscent to temperatures on Vulcan. It would be too hot for a human though and if my wager was correct, the Doctor would soon be storming into the room to take a rest. Therefore, I ordered the computer to decrease the temperature back to what would be comfortable for the human. Then, settled for stealing the blanket to make up for the loss of warmth.

I settled onto the leather coach and closed my eyes. My body and mind still needed time to recalibrate. The healing trance may have repaired the damage, but the fatigue remained. Only time and rest would heal that damage.

The minutes passed and sleep evaded me. It was a familiar game by now. Even fatigued and tired as I was, my mind refused to quiet. In the utterly silence of the room, thoughts and worries seemed to resonate loudly. 

The 15 minute mark approached.

I kept my eyes closed, feigning sleep.

The door opened and closed quietly, accompanied by whispered curses and grumbles about women and vanity and easily frightened patients. A smile tugged at my lips—a familiar act it seemed whenever I was around him.

He took careful, deliberate footsteps across the room to minimize the noise. I appreciated the needless gesture since I was not actually asleep and as a Vulcan, I would have woken anyway.

Still, I kept my eyes closed and leveled my breathing to that which was typical of a sleeping human. 

I felt him pass the chair and pause next to coach. 

He stood, silent for a moment. Then, felt the blanket shift as he settled it more firmly and snug around me. A stray hair that had been tickling my chin was gently tucked away, off to the side of my face.

A warmth that had nothing to do with the blanket and everything to do with the gesture flushed through me. I hoped that the room was dark enough to hide the green tinge I was sure my cheeks had taken on.

Then, after a moment that was simultaneously too long and too short, he moved away to settle into the armchair that was within arms reach of the coach. 

The soft snoring soon started up again, breaking up the silence of the room. 

I smiled. The sound should have been a disturbance and annoying to sensitive Vulcan hearing, yet I could not remember the last time I fell asleep so quickly and so contented.


	8. Of Visitors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the long wait, but here is Chapter 8! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. :) <3

After the Le-matya attack, I was confined to the hospital a period of 12 days for surgery, recovery, and therapy. Throughout the duration of my stay, I was never alone. 

Those 12 days were the first and last time Spock was absent from class. Instead, he sat at my bedside with our pinkies interlocked as he diligently completed assignments and lessons sent by instructors from his school. Though his hand was too small to effectively type on his PADD, he refused to release my hand. I could feel his fear just as well as he could feel my pain. And when we fell asleep, with our hands clasped, we both dreamt of pain, blood, roses, and tricorders. We never knew which of us was having the nightmare and who was picking it up through the bond and physical contact. We never asked each other and we never even thought about letting go. It was preferable to share the dreams and the emotions than risk subjecting the other to it alone. 

We had gotten through it together—sharing the fear and the pain, the sleepless nights and the vivid dreams together. Just as we had always done. Just as we always thought we always would.

After the Le-matya attack, it was rare for mother or father to walk into our room and not see our hands hanging clasped in the gap separating our beds.

At the hospital, Mother, likewise, stayed by my side and indulged her children’s adamant refusal to be separated. The only time she was ever absent was when she was out picking up clothes for Spock or replacing the flowers at my bedside with fresh ones from her garden. 

In those 12 days, my mother’s voice weaved the world of Middle Earth into our imagination and brought to life elves, dwarrows, men, and hobbits. Even Spock’s criticism of the impossibility of the events and the illogicality of the adventure quieted with time.

Father claimed that it was illogical to waste time sitting in the hospital room when their presence did not contribute to my physical healing. After all, Vulcans were nothing if not efficient and logical. Yet, he never demanded that Spock return to school or that mother fulfill her duties as ambassador.

Father’s impassive expression fooled no one when two plush coaches suddenly appeared in the room after that first uncomfortable and sleepless night my mother and brother spent in stiff chairs (with my father hovering just outside the doorway). My mother’s knowing glance and the brief Vulcan kiss they shared was confirmation enough. And if, my brother and I woke and saw the faint indent of a second person on the coach beside my mother, we didn’t call attention to it. 

Neither did I mention to Mother or Spock that though Father may not be physical with me in the room, but he might as well have been considering he no longer shielded our bond—as he typically did when he worked. After all, it would be illogical for a Vulcan to risk inefficiency and error in the workplace by completely opening one’s bonds.

In those 12 days, my father didn’t need to gift me with his presence in the room because I could already feel him in my mind. He fell just as in love with Middle Earth as my brother and I did. 

In those 12 days, my father proved that he may be Vulcan, but he was just as illogical about love and worry and concern as a human.

When Spock landed himself in the hospital after his first major laboratory accident a year later, my mother and I were just as stubbornly illogical and inefficient as they had been when I was confined. My father was as well; he just hid it better. Once more, Middle Earth became a haven to all four of us.

…

It wasn’t until I was actually beginning my medical training on Vulcan that I notice the scarcity of visitors. 

The revelation had been so shocking and dismaying that I had briefly considered changing professions. All those years spent at my brother’s bedside and him at my own, I’d forgotten that other Vulcans did not believe in hospital visits.

Unless treatment demanded that bond mates be present at the bedside, patient rooms were empty and silent.

No once complained about the stiff hospital chairs, because there was no one present to suffer sitting in them. I entertained the notion that they were purposely made uncomfortable, so as to actively discourage visitors. 

There were no stories being read aloud or fresh flowers on bedside tables. The tablets that could be found in patient rooms were work related—notes to be compiled, formulas to be tested, messages to be answered. There was no time for amusement and fantasy. There was only time for efficiency and logic. 

When I inquired about the couches I remembered from my stints in the hospital as either the patient or the visitor, the blank look of confusion was answer enough. After all, why would a hospital ever need coaches for those staying overnight, when there weren’t meant to be visitors? The presence of loved ones wasn’t necessary for the healing process, apparently.

Even as the years went on and I moved up the ladder from being trained as a doctor to practicing as one, the hospital never stopped feeling empty, as if it were missing something.

It felt wrong, to walk in to a patient’s rooms and see them sitting by themselves in the silence, “meditating” or working.

It felt even worse having to leave them, knowing that there would be no one to fill the silence and share the nightmares.

When I spoke of my dismay and sadness to my mother, she had smiled, smoothing out the crinkles on my forehead and counseled, “No Vulcan is ever truly alone,” gently tapping my forehead in reminder of the mind’s invisible bonds and connections.

It made me hope that maybe my patients shared a bond with a Vulcan that was doing for them what my father had done for my brother and I—opening the bond to be mentally present when he could not physically be.

I didn’t let myself consider the possibility that my patient’s mind was as devoid of their love one’s presence as their hospital room.

Until I started working aboard a starship, I’d never stopped to wonder about the patients who didn’t have the capacity to form bonds—humans.

…

Visiting hours were unheard of on Vulcan as there was no one to impose the regulation on.

Here, they were a necessity—for both patients and doctors. Without them, there would never be time for patients to rest or doctors to finish charts. Especially considering that the atmosphere accompanying the recovery of the crew members was rambunctious and lively. Everyone seemed drunk off relief. The relief that the accident hadn’t been deadly.

My past worries about patient loneliness, especially for humans without bonds, were unnecessary aboard the Enterprise. 

In all the years of my medical training and those spent practicing as a licensed doctor, I had never had to chase away visitors. Suddenly, the new problem was keeping them away long enough for my patient to be able to rest. Yet, I could not deny that I preferred worrying about whether my patients spent enough hours sleeping, rather than counting the number of hours they spent alone.

Aboard the Enterprise, the only problem with the chairs in Sickbay was how many people could fit in them. Personal space didn’t seem to be a concept on this starship. Instead, visitors piled onto the chairs and onto each other—when Dr. McCoy wasn’t around to threaten them about the possibility of falling over and cracking open their skull.

At times, I didn’t have it in me to bar a visitor entry, not after all those years I watched patients sit in silence, alone.

“What’s the kid doing here?” McCoy grouched, emerging from the office, “visiting hours are over.” He asked as if he was still surprised. It’s been 1.2 days and the ‘kid’ has adamantly—even more so than the rest of the bridge crew—refused to leave Sulu’s bedside.

Sickbay was quiet, filled only with the intermittent beeps of machines that needed adjusting and vitals to be recorded.

Only two patients and one visitor remained. 

“He’s not doing any harm.” I defended, glancing over my shoulder at the boy slumped next to Sulu’s bed.

He honestly wasn’t doing much of anything really. The pretense he made of quietly “working” was failing miserably. His PADD’s screen had long since gone dim as his eyed fixated instead on the man asleep before him him.

“Yeah, well, he shouldn’t be here. Rules are rules.” Yet McCoy made no move to enforce his demand. “If the rest of them find out about this and start complaining about special treatment, you’re dealing with it.” McCoy shuddered at the thought of having to play mediator between the bridge crew and his patients.

It didn’t seem like much of a punishment, so I shrugged indifferently.

“I’m gonna recheck Sulu’s vitals.” McCoy’s eyebrows furrowed as he checked the stats. “The temperature you took is higher than it should be. Might be a sign of infection.” He ran a hand roughly through his already disheveled hair. “Those damn beakers and test tubes could be infested with bacteria that we don’t know about.”

“I can do it,” I volunteered.

“No, I got this.” McCoy sighed, ruffling through his pockets for his tricorder as he walked away and muttered over his shoulder. “Don’t wanna take any risks.” 

Risks that something might be wrong with patient or risks that I was doing it incorrectly?

I fought to maintain my neutral expression as I turned back the chart in front of me. 

I knew better by now than to be too sensitive when it came to McCoy’s words and attitude. Yet, knowing better didn’t make me feel any better when it seemed like he was doubting my ability to do my job. 

My career on Vulcan had been marked by other Vulcan doctors looking over my shoulder to recheck my work. No one trusted a half-Vulcan to be a competent doctor, by any specie’s standards. Even now, knowing that McCoy didn’t know about by heritage and therefore could not doubt the results solely on the basis that I am a half-Vulcan did not make it hurt any less.

Checking vitals didn’t require a doctorate—which McCoy didn’t technically know I had. 

However, Sulu was technically McCoy’s patient since he is the doctor on duty, I reminded myself. I’m only a nurse here. And yet, the reminder did nothing to soothe the sting from his distrust. 

My thoughts spiraled into inconclusive circles, both laying blame and defending.

The style creaked from the pressure of my grip. The ramrod straight metal was now curved into a U. Vulcan strength and human emotion did not go well together.

“Grey,” McCoy called, gesturing for me to joining him. 

I discreetly dropped the stylus into the trash. I didn’t need anyone asking how I had managed to bend a titanium-steel pen with my hands alone.

His eyebrows knitted together in an undecipherable expression as he regarded me and said, slowly, “I wanna try something out. You got your tricorder on you?”

I nodded, fishing it out of my coat. 

“Take Sulu’s temperature for me.”

I didn’t let my expression flicker, not with McCoy’s eyes trained on me. Doctor’s were trained to observe and detect. Now was not the time to be hurt or scared.

It felt like being back in medical school with the instructor critiquing my every move. Only this time, the humiliation outweighed the panic. McCoy thought I was the problem with the errant results. This was him trying to figure out what I was doing wrong. 

Reminding myself that this may well save lives, helped alleviate the sting, but didn’t eliminate the hurt all together. Being aboard the Enterprise and surrounded by humans was making me weak… and more human.

My shields snapped into place. There was too much to feel right now that I didn’t want to.

I read out the reading, “101.6F.” 

Chekov’s head shot up, alert, as he turned in our direction. His eyes were wide with worry made me feel guilty for hoping that my reading was accurate.

McCoy read his reading, “99.1F.” Chekov slumped in relief.

That was a considerable discrepancy that could not be attributed to simply being experimental error.

“Your technique is fine, perfect according to textbook procedure for taking temperature.” McCoy frowned. Speculative eyes flickered between me, my tricorder, and the patient for a long moment, before the Doctor shrugged dismissively. “This must have been a defective batch of tricorders. Mine was malfunctioning yesterday and yours today. Let me see if there’s anymore in the back.”

I handed over my tricorder without argument and began needlessly adjusting monitors and wiping away nonexistent dirt on the display screens. My shields were firmly locked in place. Yet, I felt transparent. The relief and surprise and thankfulness felt too big to simply contain and meditate away.

Before I could fully contain my emotions, the Sickbay’s door slid open, admitting a by now familiar group.

“Bones! Where ya at?” 

“Shhhhh,” Uhura smacked the Captain’s shoulder, “Sulu and Spock are resting!”

“But they’ve had all shift rest, haven’t they?” Scotty protested.

“That’s the point. They’re supposed to be recovering.” McCoy groused, emerging from the office. “I don’t need you lot waking up my patients. Out. Visiting hours are over!” Despite his protests, there was no true heat behind his words—a trend that I was quickly catching on to.

“Chekov’s here,” Uhura pointed out.

As McCoy’s sharp gaze snapped in my direction, I risked a cheeky smile and wave before taking my cue to beat a hasty retreat into the office. This earned knowing chuckles from our audience and a stamp of approval from our Captain who seemed to actively encourage this type of behavior. Even through the wall, I could feel the weight of Doctor McCoy’s glare. Yet it did nothing to deter the Captain or the rest of the Bridge Crew who took up residence around and between the two occupied biobeds. 

I could hear the by now familiar scrapes of chairs being pulled out from inside the supply cabinets and the rustling of blankets being pulled off-shelves to be drawn around bodies weary from a day’s hard work.

I watched from the shadow of the doorway as Uhura draped a plush blanket over Chekov, who’s murmured thank you was lost as he all but burrowed under his blanket. Uhura ran a hand through his curls, ignoring his half-hearted protests, before taking residence in a nearby seat, laid out by Scotty. 

For all the Doctor’s glares and protests, he wordlessly stomped off towards the supply closet–leaving Scotty on chair duty and the captain on blanket duty—and seemingly surprised no one when he emerged with pillows, which he promptly, though grudgingly, distributed. 

It seemed to be a familiar ritual—a both comforting and worrying thought. 

With Scotty doing a thorough imitation of a human burrito and Uhura toeing off her shoes to more comfortably prop her feet on top of Scotty’s legs, it seemed as though they were all settling in for a long night.

“Oh come on Bones,” Captain Kirk said, throwing an arm around McCoy’s shoulders and leading his CMO to the two remaining chairs left between Sulu and Spock. “As Captain, it’s my duty to check on how my First Officer and Helmsman are doing.”

The doctor rolled his eyes, but gave in—both to his fatigue and insistent/childish captain—and slumped down into his chair. “Yeah, yeah, you keep using that Captain card and it’s gonna wear out fast.”

“That’s what you said about my charm and it still does the trick.”

Before Uhura could interject with what surely would have been a humbling retort, a voice raspy from disuse joined. “So you like to think.” 

“I must agree with Lieutenant Sulu, Captain. I recall a number of instances in which your ‘charm’ has had decidedly adverse affects on the situation,” another pitched in.

The room dissolved into exclamations of joy and laughter and relief. At one point, a very clear, “There’s been no one to try my booze” resonated clearly in the Sickbay and at another, “No respect for the Captain at all!” and then, “Since we’re all better then, time to break into my stock?” That garnered a very sharp, “No! Good gods man, Sulu was almost exploded and Spock is having fainting spells and you think it’s time for booze?” “You’re one to talk, Bones. Still got that whiskey hidden in your desk?” “It’s always time for booze.” And a very exasperated, “Men!”

With my back firmly pressed against the wall, I forced myself to turn away as I hid in the shadows of the office to wage war against desire and want and loneliness. I’d never felt more human. The want to be a part of the new family my brother had found and chosen warred with caution and resignation. 

It was private moment, but as I eased the door close, I was reluctant to miss the chance to witness it, though I knew I had not earned my right to be included.

A traitorous part of me hoped that maybe, one day, it might be in my cards to be wanted as a friends, as family, and maybe more. Yet, knowing what awaited me in just a few months’ time, knowing who awaited me in just a few months’ time, it seemed illogical to hope for happiness when I should be settling for surviving.

In the silence of the room, I forced myself to be content with feeling the happiness and laughter resonating from Spock’s bond. Even muted by the shield, it was powerful and pure. 

It made leaving him and forcing him to leave me, all those years ago, worth it.


	9. The Dangers of a Goodnight Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A momentary interlude between friends and family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the slow action thus far, but stick with me and the next few chapters should get the ball rolling! 
> 
> This chapter was more about team dynamics than anything. Just thought it might be nice to add it in there.

“I was wondering where you’d wandered off to.”

The chatter and laughter outside the office continued undeterred or perhaps, encouraged, by the absence of the Doctor.

I shrugged—a useful human gesture used for deflection I’d learned—and kept my eyes glued the PADD in front of me. 

It would have been logical to return to my quarters for meditation and sleep, seeing as my services were unrequired and McCoy could more adequately handle 2 patients without me. Instead, I’d settled down at my desk in the office and proceeded to do the charts with only 39% of my typical efficiency. The Vulcan side of me protested my illogical attempts to half-heartedly—and half-mindedly—update and review charts. There were more productive ways to use my time, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave—either too scared to intrude on the intimacy of the gathering outside the office or too scared to leave the sanctuary of the office. 

McCoy looked unimpressed with my answer or my lack of an answer. The scrutiny of his hot chocolate eyes making me aware of the dark shadows under my eyes and the unnatural paleness of my skin. The blow that Sulu had landed against my chin had taken on a greenish tinge that was made more prominent by continually disappearing make up. Apparently the brand I’d bought was not Enterprise-proof.

The Doctor’s hair was tousled from his napping in the armrest. His uniform rumpled from leaning over charts. Stubble had begun to grow on his cheeks and chin, giving him a rugged and worn look that somehow was just as appealing and attractive as his clean-shaven appearance. I resolved to meditate on the matter at a later date.

“Was there something you required, Doctor?” I said, breaking the uneasy silence.

McCoy rubbed at the back of his neck with his hand—a familiar gesture of which I had yet to decipher the meaning. “Just checking in on you after you high-tailed out of there.” He said, jerking a thumb in the vague direction of Sickbay. “I wanted to make sure you weren’t drowning yourself in chart updates when you should still be resting.” He gave a pointed look at the charts stacked precariously on my desk.

I blinked in surprise. “My services were no longer required.” I didn’t want to intrude. “My fever and nausea have long since subsided.”

“I’m the Doctor here and that’s for me to decide.” McCoy said, “Grey, you’ve been working non-stop. In the past 48 hours you’ve been knocked unconscious, had a concussion, fever, nausea, and no time for recovery.”

“I slept approximately 3.7 hours.” I protested. “That is sufficient rest.” For a half-Vulcan perhaps, but not for a human. “Besides, you’ve been working just as long…and it’s starting to show.”

McCoy narrowed his eyes, but didn’t rise to the bait and continued undeterred with only a roll of his eyes, “Nice try, Grey. Now get out of here. I don’t need to be taking beauty tips from you when you’re no better. Now get some proper rest.”

I took a step back at the dismissal, feeling smaller and more lost than I had just a moment previous. 

I didn’t want to leave. 

It was more than just a reluctance to give in to sleep and meditation; “beauty rest” in McCoy’s words. It was more even than want to be human and stubborn and refuse to give Doctor McCoy the satisfaction of obeying. 

In the past 5 days, the office had become a sanctuary of safety and comfort. A make-shift home in the midst of space. I didn’t want to leave it—or the grouchy doctor with whom I shared it—behind. This was somewhere I could belong and I loathed to trade it, even for a couple hours, for my own quarters and the cozy Vulcan temperature to which it was set.

Perhaps, my facial expressions and thoughts were far more transparent than I always assumed. My sense of unease must have translated across in my expression.

The Doctor’s hot chocolate eyes softened, renewing their intoxicating quality. “At least go get washed up and changed. Then go on and head back here.” Once more he rubbed at the back of his neck, skin taking on a pinkish tinge. I noted this for further deliberation at a later date as well. “That concussion healed to quickly for my liking. I don’t want to risk having missed something with those faulty tricorders. I’m gonna have you stay another couple hours for observation so you might as well bunk here.” 

I took up the thinly veiled excuse to stay and all but bolted for the door—scared he’d retract his offer—before hesitating.

“Will you be…staying, as well?”

McCoy gave a brusque nod, picking up that patient PADD I had left open on my desk and began scrolling through with a speed that would unlikely translate to 785 words per minute, nearly three times the normal reading speed of an average human. He groused, “Someone needs to make sure those children outside aren’t harassing my patients.” 

Feeling responsible for putting him in a position of being forced to stay, I offered him a way out. “I am more than capable of monitoring the patients and their visitors.” I’d settle for being able to stay in our office, even if he wasn’t in it with me.

Hot chocolate eyes met my gaze steadily as he shot back sharply, “Are you trying to get rid of me or something, Grey?” His words may have been rough, but the stiff set of his shoulder spoke of vulnerability.

Quite the opposite really. I want you to stay. But I want you to want to stay. I don’t want to be burden. When I couldn’t figure out how to say these words without really saying them, I settled for a simple answer, “No.” It came out sounding a bit too earnest and honest.

It must have done the job though, because McCoy’s stiff shoulders relaxed as he went back to pretending to read the PADD. 

“Good, then I’m staying.” He declared challengingly, daring me to question him again. I’d never been so pleased to back down.

I was overwhelmed by a rush of almost giddy relief and happiness. The words and the way he spoke them, felt like a promise. 

My typically measured tone betrayed me, I sounded too heartfelt to be casual, “Thank you.” 

I couldn’t help but smile. 

It was the first time in years that I’d smiled so openly and honestly. I felt vulnerable and human, because that’s what it meant to display one’s emotions so plainly for another to see. Vulcan’s may be physically stronger and more mentally disciplined, but humans—wearing their heart on their sleeves—took the risk to be vulnerable and that, to me, was bravery and strength.

McCoy’s expression shuttered, eyes wide as surprise overtook his feigned annoyance. He seemed taken back, those hot chocolate eyes that had been so pointedly drilling holes in the PADD now seemed locked on me. An unfamiliar expression stole across his face, lingering as we stared at one another. Me in gratitude and him in something I could not comprehend. I catalogued it away for deciphering at a later date.

When no words seemed forth coming, I gave him one more smile, then turned away to make my way unnoticed out of Sickbay and back to my quarters. It was illogical, not to mention impossible, but even upon returning to the warmth of my rooms, I still could feel the weight of his gaze.

  
…  


In the privacy of my quarters, dressed in a new set of clothes and fresh from the sonic shower, I meditated. My eagerness to return to Sickbay was tempered by caution at the reminder of collapse of my shields. The near disaster of the sudden opening of my bond to Spock was—literally—fresh in my mind. 

I strengthened my defenses and blocks enough to allow both myself and my family the privacy of their mind. With just the smallest trickle of emotion permeating through each of the bonds, it was enough to feel protected, but not alone. I allowed myself to bask in haven of being fully connected. I hadn’t realized the loss and emptiness I had subjected myself to by blocking Spock out completely. 

It would only be a matter of time before mother and father would make contact to inquire as to the events that had led to the emotional overflow. Even now, worry permeated from my parent’s bond with me. 

From Spock flowed a steady stream of contentment. The last time I’d felt him feel this at peace had been before we had parted ways on Vulcan, nearly 4 years ago. I could feel his amusement and his affection for the people sitting at his bedside. Though confusion and hurt underlined his happiness, he did not allow himself to dwell on it when there were others around to notice. 

As I meditated to organize my mind and regain some type of semblance of control over my emotions, there was no chasing away my thoughts of Doctor McCoy. Memories and feelings refused to be sorted and concealed. My thoughts lingered and refused to be moved. It meant something that I couldn’t recall.

The amount of happiness and contentment that McCoy’s small actions and almost thoughtless comments and gestures had fueled seemed proportional. Yet, in the course of just five days, it felt as if he’d given me back something I’d lost. His unexpected acts of kindness, words of support, and gestures countered a lifetime worth of experiences that had left me expecting the worst.

Though I still could not decipher McCoy’s expression. I knew enough to know that it was not vindictive, mocking, or annoyed—expressions I’d used to seeing on the faces of those around me. Yet neither was it neutral and indifferent. I had seen McCoy’s angry, furious, pre-coffee rage, but neither was it that.

I resolved to observe the Doctor further for the sake of compiling data for comparison. After all, as Head Nurse, it was only prudent to obtain such vital knowledge in the name of working efficiently with Doctor McCoy.

I couldn’t understand why it mattered so much to me. 

I couldn’t understand this need to know what I had done to deserve that look. 

But I wanted know, if only so I could replicate the action again and thus, replicate the results. 

Even though I couldn’t understand what exactly the expression meant, I wanted him to look at me like that again. 

  
…  


The rambunctious story telling that I had left behind in Sickbay had given way to quiet murmurs and sounds of sleep by the time I returned. The high of relief and happiness faded into the exhaustion of hours spent in worry and fear, hoping for the best, but preparing for the worse.

I paused at the entry of Sickbay, unexpectedly moved at the sight and sounds that greeted me.

From where I stood at the doorway, I could make out 7 bodies—Spock, McCoy, Sulu, Kirk, Chekov, Uhura, and Scotty—and 5 different pitches of snoring—McCoy, Sulu, Kirk, Chekov, and Scotty.

Spock and Sulu’s bio bed had been pushed together with their visitors spaced in seats around them, protectively forming a half-circle.

Chekov had lolled off to sleep with Sulu’s bandaged hand still buried in his curls. His peaceful expression only amplified his innocence and youth. He’d pulled his chair up as close to the biobed as possible without actually getting into it, so that his head rested on Sulu’s bed as he snored quietly. The rest of his long, lankly body was hidden in his blanket with his legs stretching across Uhura’s seat and ending propped on Scotty’s legs.

Uhura sat parallel to Chekov at corner of the foot of Sulu’s bed, with just enough distance between them to allow her feet to rest on his lap with her blanket carefully tucked around her bare legs. There was a pillow wrapped around the stiff armrest between her and Scotty, allowing her lean comfortably across the barrier. 

Scotty had turned his chair at an angle that allowed Uhura to rest her head comfortably on the pillow placed on Scotty’s chest. His left arm was draped across her shoulder and torso, his hand curling protectively around her her right hip to hold her in place. His own head leaned against hers, musing her sleek hair. 

With Chekov’s feet propped on his lap, Scotty had kicked his own feet up to rest on foot of Spock’s bed. He was careful, even in his sleep, to not accidentally dislodge Uhura or kick out at Sulu as he slept utterly motionless, save for the soft rise and fall of his chest as he snored, interrupted only by half-formed words of what sounded like equations.

The Captain slept with his head pillowed on top of his arm at the side of Spock’s bed, mirroring Chekov’s position. However, whereas Sulu’s hand was locked in Chekov’s curls even in sleep, my brother’s hand lay motionless at his side. It was worth noting, however, that Kirk’s hand lay just inches away—far enough that I could tell they hadn’t actually been touching or accidentally fallen away before the Captain had dropped off into sleep. Only the back of Kirk’s head was visible to me. His face angled up towards the head of the bed, facing Spock, as if he had fallen asleep watching over my brother and still continued to do so as they slept.

Kirk’s feet were propped on McCoy’s chair, where the Doctor sat asleep positioned at the foot of the two biobeds. Half-slumped over patient PADDs, which lay forgotten in the area around McCoy’s head and his patients—and Scotty’s—feet, even in his sleep, the stylus remained clutch in his hand. A blanket hung forgotten on the side of his chair, while his pillow sat unused at the back of McCoy’s chair. 

His hair seemed even more mused than when I’d left—a habit, I had determined, that signaled frustration and confusion that somehow could only be solved by running one’s hand through one’s hair repeatedly and roughly. 

In the dimly lit Sickbay, asleep, the stress and worry McCoy had carried about him since the explosion receded. The furrow of his brow and the pursed expression of a mind carrying the weight of the lives of the entire Enterprise crew gave way only in sleep. 

As McCoy lay slumped over the edge of Spock’s bed, surrounding by PADDs and holding a stylus, it quieted a forgotten outrage and bitterness I’d forgotten I’d carried of having to cede my role as Doctor in favor of being relegated to a nurse. As a matter of professional and personal pride more than anything. It felt bittersweet to have spent years fighting the odds and expectations to become a Doctor, only to have to step back and accept a position as a nurse. It felt like I’d lost what I’d fought for.

But if Head Nurse meant being able to watch over McCoy as he watched over the rest of the crew, I’d ceded my title and years of education willingly. I may not be able to share the pressure laid on McCoy’s shoulder’s to keep the crew healthy and whole, but I could at least keep McCoy from folding under the worry and fatigue that came with the responsibility.

I stared considering at McCoy’s position, which hardly looked comfortable. I diagnosed that sleeping in this position for the remainder of the shift aggravate at least 7 muscles in his back, shoulders, and neck. Furthermore, the temperature of Sickbay would be considered cool even for humans.

I hesitated against initiating physical contact with McCoy, still mindful of the unexpected emotion transfer that resulted the last time. Though I had been willing to brush the unexpected emotion transfer off to weak mental shields, I no longer had the excuse after having meditated. Instead, I settled for buying myself time by first clearing away the PADDS and deftly plucking the stylus out of his hand. He grumbled, shifting in his sleep, but not waking. 

Stealing a longer, firmer pillow from McCoy’s armchair in the office that I’d seen him favor, I propped it against the back corner of the seat. The softer pillow laid at the base of this pillow, for lower back support. 

At these movements, McCoy woke from his sleep groggily, lifting his head as I shifted the pillows behind him. “Grey?” he queried, words and mind still heavy still slow and heavy from sleep. 

“It is me,” I confirmed quietly, mindful of the others around us. He was pliant while sleepy, only half-heartedly grumbling as I pushed him back against the pillows I’d set up behind him. He was sweet and endearing like this. It made me wish I was reckless and human enough to do more than just stare.

I didn’t allow myself to jump back in shock when my hands closed against his shoulders and I could suddenly feel his emotions. Even muted by sleep, with my hand resting on top of layers of clothing I could still feel him clearly. 

It was an anomaly that shouldn’t have been possible. I'd studied under renowned mind healers and never had such a case appeared. I didn't know what to make of it or even if I should make anything of it at all. What more, I didn't know who to ask about or to confide in.

Sulu’s transference could be attributed to his extremely heightened and overwhelming emotions. The continued transference between the Doctor and myself, through layers of clothing of normal to weak emotions was something I’d never heard of.

I wondered with dimly concealed horror, as my hand remained frozen on his shoulder, if he was feeling my emotions as clearly as I was feeling his.

It didn’t bode well for me when the sudden spike of panic that shot through me at thought was nearly instantaneously answered by the Doctor’s sudden unrest as he grumbled sleepily, as though fighting to fully wake up. It was only when I reigned in my confusion and fear that he settled down, before giving in to sleep.

I snatched my hand away, as though I’d been burned. The human in me dismissed it as coincidence. The Vulcan side of me called for more evidence. To either side it felt insignificant and coincidental and I accepted the conclusion.

As he settled back and got comfortable, kicking off his shoes and unabashedly propped his socked feet up against Kirk’s chair. I watched as the Captain, still asleep, automatically brought the hand that had been resting next to Spock’s, down to rest on McCoy’s leg. Without even a hitch in his breathing to suggest that he was waking or even remotely conscious, Kirk patted McCoy’s leg gently in an unconscious gesture to comfort and settle his friend even in his sleep.

At the absence of Kirk’s hand nearby, Spock’s own hand spasm slightly in his sleep. His eyebrows pulled together in the beginning of a frown. Even in his sleep, he’d been aware enough of Kirk to register the sudden loss.

As his frown gave way to distress, a long forgotten instinct compelled me to approach and sooth him. Before logic could catch up with emotion, I was at his side, carding my hand through silky charcoal black hair. I shushed him softly, murmuring, “Go back to sleep.” The words and actions mimicked that of my mother in our childhood. “Dream of sunlight, laughter, and family.”

My voice hitched on the last word. Family. I wondered if for him, that meant mother, father, and myself, or the new family he had chosen, that lay asleep around him. I wonder if he still considered me a part of it.

I was careful to keep my emotions shielded and light, mindful of the skin to skin contact of my fingers running through his hair. To the rest of the world, he seemed at peace. But I could read this breathing, the flicker of eyes behind his eyelids, and the smallest wrinkle on his forehead. He was to lost in fatigue and sleep to truly register the physical contact and words. This would be nothing more than a dream that he’d never remember. 

With Spock peacefully back to sleep, it was time to leave. I let my hand run through his hair, smoothing out the silky strands, prolonging my stay and reveling in the familiar gesture. My heart clenched at the thought that this might truly be it. This may be the last time I’d be free to comfort him, even if only in his sleep, as thanks for all the years he’d protected and care for me. 

I rested my hand on the crown of his head and closed my eyes as I gently pressed a lingering kiss to his forehead. I tried to push all the love and affection I held for him, even after all these years, into that gesture. Maybe I’d grown careless or bold, but I wanted him to sleep feeling as loved as he was by both his family of blood and his family of choice. 

I had missed him. I forced myself of the kiss as a goodnight, rather than a goodbye. It was as much to comfort him in the sudden reopening of bond and old wound, as it was to comfort me. 

The fear, latent but ever present, of what awaited me on New Vulcan was never far from my mind. This time spent on the Enterprise was only a temporary reprieve from the reality of my future, or rather, lack of it.

As I backed away from my brother, I liked to imagine that lines around his eyes and mouth had soften and the furrow in his brow had disappeared. There were worries on his shoulders and responsibilities on his mind that hadn’t been there when were children. He didn’t need me coming in and throwing everything in disarray. This time, I promised myself and him, I wouldn’t leave him hurting, because he won’t even realize that I had left. He’ll never know that Dr. Gray was actually Dr. Grayson. He’ll never have to know that I was here. 

Too caught up in thoughts and promises, I noticed too late that symphony of 5 sleepers snoring had declined to only 4. I jerked away from Spock, thankfully not roughly enough for him to wake, that I met one pair of eyes that were too clear and lucid, and curious to have just woken. 

Sulu met my gaze steadily with a look that said solemnly, “We’ll talk about this later.”

There was nothing I could do but nod.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) Leave kudos and comments to stave off writer's block!


	10. Of Pictures Taken and Not Taken Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhh I know I promised the whole Sulu and Selena confrontation but it's really been a struggle to get it just right. Therefore, in the mean time, enjoy this little interlude between characters before we get back to the drama.

Selena’s POV

I lay awake on the coach, not even bothering to feign sleep. Even when I closed my eyes, all I could see was Sulu’s knowing gaze. 

Five days in and I had already made a mistake. A truly stupid, emotional, impulsive, and _human_ mistake. A mistake a true Vulcan would never have made. 

It was easy to fall back on old insecurities and judgements and berate myself for not being more Vulcan. Maybe if I had just for once listened to logic, rather than being ruled by emotion, I wouldn’t be in this position. 

The peace and serenity that meditation had allowed me vanished in the face of this new fear and worry. Even the serenity and comfort of the office could not overcome my anxiety. 

Sulu knew. Or at least, he had some inkling that not everything was as it appeared or that I wasn’t what I appeared.

I realized now that I didn’t know if Spock had ever told them about me. I wonder how he’d even go about telling them about the sister whom he had cared for and protected, loved and comforted, raised and cherished. The sister who had turned her back on everything he had given her, done for her, and thanked him by pushed him away.

Part of me—most likely the human side—thought of escaping before the questioning would begin. Running away and hiding was something I excelled at. Perhaps, the only thing I was truly good for, I thought bitterly, after all is that not what these last years spent avoiding Spock have been about? However, the Vulcan in me harshly criticized the tactic, calculating only a 6.31% chance of successfully managing to acquisition a shuttle and fly it undetected to the nearest Star Base.

Everything was falling apart for sooner than I had anticipated and thought I was closer to Spock, proximity wise at least, than I have been in years, it wasn’t as close as I wished to be. The part of me that will always be his little sister was glad the Sulu had caught me, if only to give me the excuse of throwing caution in the wind and burying myself in Spock’s arms to seek comfort. I wanted him to hold me as he had done when we were children and tell me that my fears were illogical and impossible, I wanted him to tell me that everything was going to be alright and that he still loved me.

But alone in the darkness of the office, with the crew asleep beyond the doorway, there was nothing to assuage my fears.

There was nothing left to do but wait. Wait for them to wake and for Sulu to tell them what he had witnessed. 

I could imagine it already: Spock’s look of betrayal, Kirk’s cold dismissal, and McCoy’s rage. They would probably drop me off at the nearest Star base, eager to get rid of the girl that had hurt one of their own. Spock had a new family to look out for him now and I no longer had the guarantee of being considered a part of it. 

If I couldn’t even keep myself hidden and secret for 5 days, how could I ever have expected to go unnoticed aboard the Enterprise for 5 years.

The room felt quiet and empty. There was none of the snoring and sleepy mumbles that typically marked Sickbay. Though I knew logically that the room temperature was stable and did not fluctuate unless purposely changed, it air felt colder and crisp. Even tucked underneath my blanket, the chill still managed to invade my cocoon and seep beneath my skin.

When sleep did come, it came only in short segments as I slept and woke intermittently, each time feeling somehow more tired and exhausted than when I’d first lay down to sleep. 

There was nothing to do but stare up into the darkness and listen. If I strained my sense hard enough, I could just make out the sound of muffled snoring creeping through the cracks under the doorway. It was an odd sort of comfort to be able to pick out the sound McCoy’s snores out in Sickbay. It was odder still that it lulled me to sleep. I had never been so thankful for being Vulcan, if only for my enhanced senses, as I was in that instant.

…

I hazily woke and lingered in consciousness somewhere in between being wide-awake and dozing. I tried to latch onto the familiar sound of McCoy’s snores to lull myself back to sleep. 

An uneasy restlessness of dreams and memories half-remembered plagued my thoughts and unconsciousness. I dreamt of shuttles and stars and half-honest conversation. It was painful memories, better left untouched and unremembered. Even in sleep, the pain and guilt was sharp.

…

McCoy’s POV:

I woke restless and jumpy. 

Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I scanned Sickbay for whatever or whoever had dared to wake me. Everything seemed normal for the bridge crew’s typical night spent in the Sickbay. This was worryingly becoming increasingly frequent and made me suspicious as to whether they were purposely being careless just for an excuse to have an Enterprise version of a slumber party.

I didn’t let myself linger too long on the thought that everyone looked so contented and peaceful. It was as if these far to frequent respites in the Sickbay were the only true rest they got. Where had the natural and perfectly reasonable fear of doctors and hospitals gone? It was a perfectly health fear in small doses when it deterred injury but didn’t deter injured ensigns from seeking treatment.

Sulu and Spock were knocked out on the bed, vitals thankfully steady. Though I’d never admit it to either of them, traveling on board a hunk of metal that everyone called a “starship” was almost made bearable knowing the Sulu was at the helm and Spock was on the bridge to keep Jim from starting another intergalactic incident or accidently exploding the Enterprise.

There was Scotty, mumbling away about space travel and equations. His snores were the only thing that proved he was actually asleep and not just talking to himself. Somehow, Uhura managed to sleep peacefully at his side, as if those equations were actually a lullaby to her in her sleep. Chekov and Kirk had all but collapsed on the sides of the biobeds. Considering who was on each bed, it was nothing particularly surprising about it.

Nothing stood out as to what had woken me, but it felt like something had. Like a machine that sounds an alert when patients woke or needed assistance. Something had called to me and left me feeling as if I had something to do or some unfinished business to follow through on. 

As I made to unwrap myself from my blanket, I realized that I never recalled having laid it out on myself. Neither did I remember going back to the office to grab another pillow. But, wow, what a difference did it make for my back. I was too damn old to be lounging around in these chairs to babysit these infants. But maybe I’d last a couple more years if they kept up this treatment. Or at least, if Gray kept up this treatment, because I had definitely been the last to sleep and with the PADDs gone and the pillow from the office coming to rescue my back, it could have been no one else but her.

So Gray had come back after all then. 

A reluctant smile pulled at my lips. 

I felt ridiculous for being so absurdly pleased. I’d all but forced her to come back after all. But how could I not, after she’d looked at me so wounded and lost when I’d told her to leave. She’d all but shrunk into herself, somehow looking even more fragile than usual.

I’d fallen asleep before she’d made it back—not that I’d been waiting up, of course—and couldn’t remember waking as she maneuvered the pillows and me in to position. There was something there though, something playing on the edge of my consciousness that I couldn’t recall. I didn’t know what to make of it was and was too sleep deprived to be bothered.

I made my way into the office, feeling ridiculous for how slowly I opened the door to keep from waking her. 

The light was set to 10% as she slept and was just bright enough to make out her form, curled up restlessly on the couch. There was a familiar tension and fatigue that lined and shadowed her face. The weight that she carried through the day seem just as heavy by night and I couldn’t make sense of it. It bothered me though that even in her sleep, she looked more tired and worried and drawn than rested.

It only renewed my restlessness I’d woken to.

Though the room was by no means chilly, she still lay huddled for warmth beneath the already thick patchwork quilt. She seemed abnormally sensitive to temperature, but from what I had studied on her patient PADDs, there were no irregularities with her thyroid. I settled for doing what I could and grabbed the blanket from my armchair. As I gently tucked it in around her petite form, more careful and meticulous that truly necessary, the restlessness that had chased me from sleep ebbed. 

She seemed fragile and breakable. Yet, she’d all but popped right back up after Sulu had landed one on her, which showed more resilience and strength that you’d first assume. Not to mention the way she’d handled Spock demanding to be discharged. Gray didn’t even bat an eyelash reminding him exactly who was in charge of him in the Sickbay.

She carried with her the scent of cinnamon and other exotic spices. It reminded of a Saturday morning back home in Gran’s kitchen with freshly baked pies cooling on the windowsill. She smelled like home.

As I swept away strands of charcoal black hair that fell across her angular cheekbones, I couldn’t help but gently brush my thumb across the smooth cheek. My coarse, hardened skin felt to rough against her delicate skin, but she didn’t seem to think so. She turned her face into my touch. Those shadows and lines that marked her face even in sleep, appeared to ease and vanish. As I let myself linger, indulging myself with one more brush across her cheek, I felt a sudden feeling of contentment and peace rush over me. It felt like coming home.

I didn’t let myself feel guilty or “stalkerish,” as Jim would put it, for pulling my armchair closer to the sofa and its sleeping occupant. There were worries and a loneliness she carried in her sleep that I couldn’t heal, no matter how many medical degrees I had. But after saving Sulu and being nothing short of a miracle to work with, the least I could do was give her a blanket when she was cold, brush away irritating strands of hair, and watch over her in her sleep.

…

Selena’s POV

He fell asleep, with his armchair pulled close to the sofa, once more.

I probably should have felt guiltier about having unintentionally stole his blanket and just as I probably should have felt embarrassed about nuzzling into his hand, but I couldn’t bring myself to feel anything other than contentment and relief. 

I would have given him back the blanket, I justified to myself, only McCoy had forgotten to close the office door before he’d dropped off to sleep. Thus, the extra blanket was compensation for his forgetfulness as it was now his fault that a cool breeze was blowing in from Sickbay.

Hearing him sleep without a door and wall between us and surrounded by the renewed smell of sunshine, whiskey, and the warmth of coming home, I admitted to myself that the comfort I found in our office may have more to do with the doctor with whom I shared it that I originally admitted.

The restlessness subsided and I finally fell into a peaceful sleep.

…

McCoy’s POV

_Click_.

For all the many supposed virtues of the Enterprise’s Command Crew, stealth could not be counted as one of them. 

The sound of chairs scrapped across the floor and failed whispering calls registered even before I open my eyes. I didn’t need to see them to know that they were crowded in the doorway of the office, doing a striking imitation of five snickering and cooing children.

“…cute…”

_Click_.

“Way to go, Bones.”

Voices murmured in agreement, only to be broken up by what sounded like a painful smack.

“Stuff it, Kirk.”

_Click_.

“…only 5 days…”

“Moves fast…” Scotty muttered, sounding duly impressed.

Christ, what had the universe come to if these idiots were the ones who had managed to save Earth.

Before I could work up a proper amount of irritation to fuel my pre-coffee rage and actually open my eyes and get up, the familiar click of Uhura’s camera going off finally registered.  
God dammit!

My eyes snapped open as I glared at the offender in a way what I hoped would convey just how much pain she was in for her next medical visit. Scotty too for that matter, for daring to build her that thing.

_Click_.

Uhura grinned smugly from behind the lens of her camera. No respect for doctors what so ever.

Any pre-caffeinated rant I had been ready to get started on was cut short but the rustle of movement on couch. The entire room fell to a hush. 

Huddled beneath two layers of blankets—and still somehow looking as if she were cold—Gray had stayed asleep through all the noise. I couldn’t even bring myself to gripe about nurses too tired to wake up for patients, because I already knew that no matter how sleep deprived Gray may be, she’d be up before a patient alert even sounded. It was eerie the way she could just sense when she was needed.

The light spilling in to the office room over the heads of the people crowded in the door way lit up her ebony skin in contrast to the charcoal black of her hair. The hair was mused, with lose strands falling out the braid she always wore. Her eyes moved beneath closed lids indicating REM sleep as she continued on in her dream. She shifted, eyebrows furrowing for a moment as if to wake, then stilled.

No one risked sighed in relief as she settled down again. I scoffed—in the safety of my own head—at their sudden care to be quiet, as if they hadn’t just been making a racket.

I glared at Uhura, Scotty, Chekov, and Kirk, daring them to move or breathe or do anything to wake her unless they wanted to be treated with a particularly nasty vaccine and even nastier symptoms. 

Chekov at least, had the decency to look sheepish, as he ducked his head and crept away from the door and predictably back to Sulu’s side. 

Uhura, even with her hair tousled and tangled, falling in waves down her back, looked worryingly thoughtful and devious as she grinned up at me, unabashed and unintimidated, before dragging Scotty away. The Scottish man somehow made his eyebrows do a suggestive/impressed dance, before disappearing out of sight. 

I’d make sure they’d remember this moment the next time they land themselves in sickbay. Which would probably be sooner rather than later.

Kirk lingered at the door way. His damn blue eyes twinkled. I’d be hearing about this later. 

For the love of all the alcohol and coffee in the world, I was too sober and decaffeinated to be dealing with this right now. 

“Wake Gray, would ya Bones?” He called as he turned away, “It’s Senior Officer Meeting time.”

With one last suggestive wink, he casually strolled back towards where the other were clustered, probably looking over the photos Uhura had taken. 

Damn, infants. 

I stood up and stretched feeling too damn old to be putting myself through sleeping in an armrest two nights in a row. Yet, as I looked down at Gray, curled beneath her blankets, it did not seem like such a large price to pay.

The trouble air Gray wore around her, still clouded her even in her sleep. My fingers twitched at my side, wanting to smooth out the frown that pulled at her lips as dreamed. Though the dark bags on her eyes no longer looked as severe as they had last night, they detracted from her rested appearance. For all her griping about beauty sleep and rest, she was the one who had run herself ragged doing 3 back to back shifts with only 3 to 4 hours to nap in between. Hypocrite.

I couldn’t wake her. Not for a damn Senior Office Meeting. She needed rest, not a damn update report on whatever the hell Scotty was cooking up in engineering or what Spock had managed to explode next. It wouldn’t do to have my head nurse falling over from exhaustion just 6 days into a 5-year voyage, I justified to myself, as I closed the office door behind me. Doctor’s orders.

First things first though, there were patients to attend to. Sulu was fast asleep, with Chekov keeping vigil at his bedside. The kid was out the woods, metaphorically, and would soon be be out of his biobed and back to fencing and gardening to his heart’s desire. 

Spock would be out of his biobed too, as soon as he brought himself to wake up. He should have been awake already, what with his “I am half-Vulcan and require less sleep the human” speech which he repeatedly recited. Usually, he was the first awake and already engrossed in whatever recently published scientific article he was reviewing.

“I’ve never seen him sleep this long before, Bones.” Jim said quietly as I approached the Vulcan, “Not outside of a sleeping trance.” I scanned him with my tricorder, taking note of the irregularities in the readings for his brain waves. The alpha waves in the readings indicated that he should be in REM, associated with dreaming. 

Damn Vulcan biology. Could Vulcan’s even dream?

“It’s not a healing trance, Jim. He’s dreaming.” I reassured, quietly.

“He’s a touch-telepath who had sustained mental trauma, Jim. He’s still in recovery.” I didn’t like giving this answer and neither did Jim seem to like hearing it. “He hasn’t said anything about what happen and knowing how stubborn the hobgoblin is, I’ll probably have to hypo it out of him later. For now, though, keeping him here isn’t gonna help anything so I’ll have Nurse Chapel discharge him when he wakes and sign him off for strictly bed rest. Somethings tell me that this is the type of thing he’s gonna wanna deal with by himself and meditate. I’ll call him back afterwards to talk.”

Jim didn’t look too happy about still having his First Officer out of commission but knew better that to argue—at least when it came to someone’s safety that wasn’t himself. “Chapel?” He queried, that familiar twinkle reappearing “What happen to Gray? Did we lose her already?” He teased. Just this one, I’d let the banter slide, if only to draw his thoughts away from the eerily still First Mate before us. 

“I’m letting her rest,” I said flatly, “No need to go scaring her away this early on into our expedition.” 

“Right.” Jim replied dryly, “Because the fact you’re suddenly delegating responsibilities to someone other than your Head Nurse is totally a professional curtesy and precaution.” Those damn blue eyes twinkled, “I can see that, because any woman that can take a hit from Sulu and still managing to save his life, then shoot down Spock’s attempt to escape Sickbay afterwards on her third day as fifth day as Head Nurse is totally prone to collapsing under the first signs of sleep deprivation.” 

“Just for that, you’re gonna be the first to get the vaccine after the Senior Officer meeting.”

“Bones!” Jim whined, blue eyes wide and wounded as if I’d just told Pike the real reason why there were phaser burns marring nearly almost every corridor wall of the Enterprise

Snickers could be heard from group huddled over that damn camera on the other side of Sulu’s bed. The gleam in Uhura’s eyes was unsettling as she met my glare undeterred with that damn annoying smirk.

Chekov, meanwhile, seemed more concerned with arguing that “cuteness” was invented in Russia, than focusing on the contents of the picture itself. Huh, looks like the kid did have some instinct towards self-preservation after all. 

“Don’t worry Jim, Scotty and Uhura will be there to hold your hand for the hypo, since they earned themselves one of the first vaccine appointments, too.” That should teach them a lesson.

Seeing Scotty’s sputter in horror—“Wha’? But I di’n’t do anyt’ing?”—and Uhura finally lose her damn smug, all-knowing grin felt like a victory. 

Yup, some days it felt good to be the doctor around here keeping these infants in line.

…

By the time I got back from the Senior Meeting, the photo of Gray and I asleep had been enlarged, printed out, and hung on the wall between our desks in a picture frame.

Damn, infants.

I’d rather get hypoed by every vaccine known to every discovered planet in all the quadrants of the space than admit it out loud, but it was a pretty “cute” picture. 

With Selena’s hair spilling out over her braid over the edge of the couch, wrapped in blankets from head to toe, she looked completely at home and comfortable with me asleep just a few inches over. Seeing that display of trust captured in a picture as proof from a woman so normally tightly contained and distant had my chest tightening uncomfortably. She looked, for once, completely oblivious to the pack of children hovering just on the other side of the camera that had taken this picture, seeming simply at ease and relaxed in my company. 

It looked like we were home, whether it be here on this starship or maybe back in Georgia. It was a lot to take away from a picture, but somehow, we looked like we just fit together and that made her that much more beautiful and precious to me.

I didn’t take the picture down.

The smile Gray made when she saw the picture a couple hours later definitely deserved to be captured in a picture forever. It made me wish I’d asked Scotty to build me a camera as well.

Gray didn’t take take the picture down either.


End file.
